All Through the Night
by Merlin Missy
Summary: XFiles, Gargoyles, Batman:TAS, Beauty and the Beast, etc.  Mulder and Scully come to New York.  This is never good.
1. Default Chapter

All Through the Night (1/2)  
a Gargoyles/X-Files/Batman: TAS/Beauty & the Beast/etc crossover  
by Merlin Missy

copyright 1995, 2001

Here for your approval: the first (to my knowledge) crossover among  
the "X-Files," "Gargoyles," "Beauty and the Beast" (the series) and  
"Batman: The Animated Series." The only excuse I can come up for  
this one is that somebody had to do it. Note: it all started with  
an observation made by my roommate and myself that Owen is Alfred  
on Prozac. You have been warned.

This takes place in the middle of the second season of "Gargoyles"  
(most definitely pre-"Revelations"), the third season of the "X-  
Files," approximately three years after the last episode of  
"Batman: TAS," (ask me how very much "Batman Beyond was  
not even a consideration when I wrote this) and almost precisely six  
years after the last episode of "Beauty and the Beast."

Disclaimer: The characters of Mulder, Scully, and Skinner belong  
to Chris Carter/1013 Productions, the "Gargoyles" belong to Buena  
Vista/Disney, "Batman" and his gang belong to DC Comics, and the  
characters from "Beauty and the Beast" belong to Ron Koslow/  
Republic pictures. No infringement on anyone's copyright is  
intended or should be inferred. If by chance there is actually  
something in this story not covered by someone else's copyright, it  
belongs to my own personal neurosis.

(Notes for the 2001 edition: I went and edited a few things that have been  
bothering me since the original publication. I would, however, like to  
point out that none of the plot has changed, and that all but one of Owen's  
lines were there since the first post on October 30, 1995. Sometimes, you  
just get obscenely lucky.)

Whew! Now, on with the show.

VVVVV  
Chapter 1: Arrivals

_**click**_ The slide changed.

"Notice the parallel patterns of the wounds."

"They look like claw marks. Are you certain this wasn't  
done by an animal?"

"That was my first thought." _**click**_ "Then I saw this one."  
click "And this one." _**click click**_ The dates scribbled at  
the bottom of the police photographs changed years, then decades.

"How many cases are there?"

"Fifty-three, a few as early as the late 70's. The majority  
of the killings have taken place in the past eight years." _**click**_  
"This is the most recent. It happened last week."

The photograph showed the body in a crisp black and white  
starkness that belied the gruesome death. The victim, a Caucasian  
man in his mid-twenties, lay staring at a congealed pool of his own  
blood. Four parallel wounds lay his face open, more similar  
slashes had rid him of half his abdomen.

Scully swallowed twice. She'd seen worse, much worse, but  
this was not the sight she wanted first thing after lunch.

Bluestone continued: "The victim was part of a drug ring.  
Officially, his death has been filed as another gang-related  
incident. He would probably have been forgotten by this point."

"But ... " prodded Mulder.

"But I was on the scene when the yellow tape went up. I saw  
the body, and I knew no knife had made those marks. I thought I  
remembered something about similar murders from the back files, so  
I went digging." He pulled out a thick manila folder. "These are  
the reports I've found so far." He set it on the table, just out  
of reach. "I've asked private collectors, zoos, anyone I could  
think of, to see if something big, hairy, and mean had escaped.  
Nothing. Besides, no single escaped lion could have done this for  
twenty years and never been seen.

"Someone else has to be involved, someone intelligent."

"Let me guess: you think the Illuminati are in on it."

Scully looked confused. "Illuminati?"

"Think the Freemasons with attitude, and toss in the Mafia for  
kicks."

"That's not exactly how I'd describe them," said Bluestone,  
"but it's pretty accurate. And no, I don't think they have  
anything to do with this particular case."

"Then who?"

Bluestone dropped his eyes and shifted uncomfortably in his  
chair. "This may be hard to believe." He looked at Mulder. "But  
then again ... " He sighed. "Would you think I was crazy if I  
told you there may be gargoyles living in New York?"

Scully glanced at Mulder, who actually seemed to be giving the  
idea some consideration. She would let herself follow his lead for  
now. After all, Matt Bluestone was his friend. Maybe life as a  
cop in the Big Apple had just been too difficult on him.

"Gargoyles? Why would you say that?"

Bluestone's eyes began to light up with an expression Scully  
knew all too well. "Strange things have been appearing in the sky  
lately. On the night shift, you see a lot of weird people, but  
now, some of those people have claws and wings. I've seen them."

"Matt."

"I'm serious. There have been things that I can't explain any  
other way, and believe me, I've tried." _**click**_ The latest slide  
showed a large pile of rubble on a sidewalk. "See?"

Now Scully was the one getting uncomfortable. He was showing  
them rocks. She'd occasionally suspected her partner of taking one  
step too many into the deep end, but this guy owned the diving  
board.

"There were dozens of these piles found along one street at  
daybreak on November 17. They weren't there the night before.  
Some of the piles looked like smashed statues."

"Somebody didn't like street art?"

"Let me finish. The statues that we could partially reconstruct  
resemble actual people. People who've been missing since that  
night. Finally," he looked directly at Mulder, "no one, no one  
in New York City can remember where they were from sunset  
to sunrise the night before."

Mulder's eyes lit up like a young boy's on his birthday.  
Bluestone smiled like an angler who'd just felt a trout snap at his  
line.

"However, I do have several witnesses who say they can remember  
what happened, and I have a few on tape. They all corroborate on  
three details. First, ninety-nine and a half percent of the  
population of New York was turned to stone at sunset on November  
18. Second, there were demons in the air. And third, the sky  
turned to fire that night.

"So are you interested?"

"And if we are?"

"If you are, I have names and numbers of people to contact."

"Since when did you start working for MCI?"

Bluestone snorted. "Cute. You sound like my partner. She's  
the first one you need to talk to; I can't get a thing out of her.  
She knows more than she's telling me."

"How do you know?" asked Scully.

"Because the night that I saw them, she called one by name.  
I have some of it on tape." He turned on the tv/vcr setup sitting  
in the corner. The screen showed several large objects flying by  
the camera's sight and away. Bluestone rewound the tape and paused  
it on a large, dark blot with wings against the evening sky.

VVVVV

It wasn't until Bluestone had left that Scully realized the  
glow hadn't left her partner's eyes. Great. He picked up his  
cellular.

"Mulder, you're not seriously considering this."

Mulder began dialing. "If nothing else, the missing persons  
aspect warrants some kind of investigation. Couple that with the  
mass amnesia, the mutilations, the burning sky, and the gargoyles,  
and we have a classic abduction scenario on the biggest scale I've  
ever heard of." He paused, then spoke into the phone. "Book two  
on the next flight to JFK. Thanks." He hung up.

"Reality check. You're actually considering the idea that  
there are gargoyles in New York City?"

"Where else could they walk down the street and not be  
noticed? Other than Los Angeles," he added quickly. Scully rolled  
her eyes. "The gargoyles may just be a manifestation of someone's  
psyche after encountering an extraterrestrial."

"Or a bat. This whole thing feels like a setup. How well can  
you trust Bluestone?"

"Enough. We went through the Academy together."

"And then he was drummed out."

"He got obsessed with the Illuminati, and it cost him. He's  
clean. Besides," he smiled, "I thought I was the one who was  
supposed to see conspiracies behind everything."

"You are. That's what worries me." She returned his smile.  
Not all of his friends were crazy; she'd met a pal of his at the  
Phoenix Foundation who'd seemed almost normal. Maybe Bluestone  
would turn out to be all right, so long as he didn't have a thing  
for duct tape. "But if you want to go chasing gargoyles in New  
York, you're going to be the one to explain it to Skinner."

VVVVV

"Gargoyles, Mulder?" asked A.D. Skinner, a weary but patient  
tone to his voice.

"I know how it sounds."

"Good, because it sounds ridiculous. Aliens, werewolves,  
vampires, and now gargoyles. You're up for some vacation time.  
I'd really suggest taking it."

"I trust my source on this. He's a good man."

"I don't care if he's Santa Claus. I need a better reason to  
let the two of you go off than the word of a man obsessed with  
secret societies."

"How about this?" Mulder set down the first file from the  
manila envelope Bluestone had lent them. Skinner looked at the  
picture, glancing at the accompanying report. "I have fifty more  
cases just like it. No witnesses."

Scully held the other files. She'd had a chance to read some  
of the reports. She was still convinced that some sort of animal  
was responsible, but ...

"Sir," she said. "It's at least worth a look. There's a  
serial killer loose in New York that the police haven't even  
noticed."

Skinner sighed with the air of someone who had heard all this  
far too many times before. "When does your flight leave?"

"In about two hours."

"I want you both back here Monday morning and a report on this  
on my desk. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly."

"Good. I also have some reading material for you, concerning  
a place you may be interested in: a little town in Nebraska called  
There."

Having driven many times through little Pennsylvania towns  
named Intercourse, Paradise, and Unamit, Scully just shrugged.  
People came up with strange names for towns sometimes.

"What about it?" asked Mulder.

"Read the file. On Monday, you can tell me if the two of you  
would be interested in going there."

"To There?"

"Of course."

VVVVV

The plane touched down at precisely 7:35pm. Bluestone met  
them at the airport, his own flight having come in an hour  
beforehand. They managed to check into the Paramount Hotel on 47th  
by 8:30. By nine, the three of them were at the police station.

Bluestone led the way through the crowded building, filled  
with the early evening's catch of slime from the city. His partner  
was waiting for him when they reached his desk.

"Elisa, I want you to meet an old friend of mine. Fox  
Mulder." Mulder held out his hand. After a fraction of a second,  
she took it. "His associate, Dana Scully." Again the handshake,  
and Scully was almost surprised by the strength of the slim woman's  
grip.

"Detective Elisa Maza. So what's the occasion?"

Scully flashed her i.d. "We're here to investigate a murder."

Maza's eyes widened, but all she said was, "Which one? This  
is Manhattan."

"We were kind of hoping you could help us with that," said  
Mulder. "What do you know about gargoyles?"

A muscle in the other woman's face twitched, then she smiled  
sardonically at her partner. "Matt, please say you didn't bring  
them here for that." She turned back towards the pair. "Has he  
mentioned the secret society in charge of the President yet?"

"The Illuminati?" asked Scully.

"We've heard of them," said Mulder.

Maza looked at Bluestone again and crossed her arms. Within  
the space of a few seconds, he dropped his glance to the floor,  
then finally to Mulder. "I had to get you here somehow."

Mulder sighed. "Tell me."

Bluestone became animated again. "I have a lead that several  
members of the Illuminati are going to be together tomorrow night  
at a party." He began digging through the piles of photographs on  
his desk, eventually tugging out one and placing it in Mulder's  
hands.

"This is David Xanatos, one of the names in that file I gave  
you. He's one of those self-made billionaire types, who owns at  
least a quarter of the city. He's hosting a party tomorrow night,  
officially to announce that he's going to be a father. According  
to my source, the real reason behind the festivities is an  
induction of a new member into the Illuminati. But I don't know  
who or how."

Maza looked over at Scully. "See what I go through every  
night?"

Scully glanced at her own partner, who was absorbed in  
Bluestone's explanation. "If it makes you feel better, I can  
sympathize." She turned to Bluestone. "So the gargoyles were just  
a ploy to bring us here? What about the murders?"

"No, everything I told you was true. If I'd told you just  
about the birth announcement, you would have laughed at me."

Scully bit back her 'Probably.' Something about Maza worried  
her, though. Her stress level had shot up when the conversation  
had shifted back to the gargoyles. There was nothing obvious, but  
she could tell that Bluestone had been right on at least one point:  
the woman was not telling everything.

"Could we have a moment alone, please?" Bluestone indicated  
a semi-quiet corner, and the agents moved quickly to it. "So what  
do you think now?" she asked him.

"I'm sorry. I thought he was on the up and up."

"He still thinks he's on the up and up. What do you want to  
do about it?"

"We have until Monday. It wouldn't hurt to look around for  
evidence of these 'gargoyles,' whatever they really are."

"For once, I agree with you. I'd like to ask Maza a few  
questions about it, see if I can get anything out of her."

"That sounds like a plan. I'd like to also look into the  
Illuminati angle."

"Mulder."

"There's a possibility that he's right. Scully, this could be  
the group that Cancer Man and his pals are trying to protect. The  
least I can do is take a look."

Scully had an odd feeling in her head, as if she had hit it  
against a brick wall one too many times. A wall named Mulder.  
"All right, you look for Illuminati, I'll look for gargoyles." She  
smiled. "Skinner's just going to love us for this."

"He shouldn't argue: we'll have two X-Files for the price of  
one."

They moved back towards the detectives. Maza was on the  
phone, taking something down.

"We'll look into it, Matt," said Mulder. "Now how do you plan  
to get into a party hosted by a billionaire?"

Bluestone pulled open his desk drawer as Maza hung up the  
phone. He handed Mulder a piece of embossed stationery, stating  
that one Matthew Bluestone and guest were officially invited to "A  
Celebration Announcing the Impending Arrival of the Newest Member  
of the Xanatos Family."

"Elisa has one, too." He smiled meaningfully at her.

"Forget it, Matt. I'm not going to the party. We are going  
downtown to 53rd and 4th." She grabbed her jacket.

Bluestone turned to the agents. "Sorry about this. Duty  
calls. Can you get back to the hotel okay?"

"No problem," said Mulder.

"Good. I'll try to talk Elisa into changing her mind."

"It won't work," said Maza, already on her way out. And they  
were gone.

Mulder rested against Bluestone's desk. "Interesting pair."

"Mmhm." Scully felt someone behind her just before Mulder's  
eyes went to her shoulder. She turned quickly to see a large,  
somewhat Neanderthal-looking man. "Can I help you?"

"Excuse me for listenin' but I think I can help you."

Mulder moved from the desk to beside her, unconsciously  
adopting a protective stance which Scully registered then ignored.

"Help us how?"

"About these 'gargoyles.' You're barking up the wrong fire  
hydrant."

"And you would be," prompted Scully.

"Oh. Sorry. Forgot my manners. Detective Harvey Bullock."  
He held out a meaty hand, which Scully shook as firmly as possible.  
He didn't offer it to Mulder. "I've been on the force since these  
kids were in kindergarten. Bluestone will follow any fairy tale  
you tell him, but he's got this one wrong."

"So we should be reading Snow White instead?" asked Mulder.

"Cute. You've got a sense of humor. I can appreciate that.  
Have you ever heard of Batman?"

Mulder nodded. "I've heard rumors. The masked vigilante who  
fights criminals the law can't touch. I've never seen any proof of  
him." Scully tried not to smile. That particular problem had  
never actually phased Mulder.

"I don't need proof. I've met him. He's a freak, and he's as  
crazy as most of those psychos he locked up in Arkham. If you want  
to know who's been flying around causing trouble, it's him."

"But the Batman is supposed to be on the side of the law. He  
doesn't kill people. We're looking for a murderer."

The mass of human shrugged. "Maybe he went loony. I wouldn't  
put it past him. Since Gordon retired last year, he's been awful  
quiet. I ain't sayin' it's him, but I ain't saying it isn't,  
either."

Scully shot a glance to Mulder before saying, "Well, thanks  
for the tip. We'll keep it in mind."

"You think I'm crazy, don't you? Let me tell you something.  
In my career I've seen a guy dressed up as a clown hold an  
automatic while his ex-shrink girlfriend was about to blow up the  
mayor. I've seen a woman who thinks she's a plant turn people into  
trees, and a guy with a Lewis Carroll kick talk all the rich people  
in town into giving him a fortune. I'm not crazy. This town makes  
people crazy. You want to believe in gargoyles? In this city,  
that's nothing."

He shambled away, muttering about winged freaks.

"Mulder, can we ... "

"Yeah." They left.

VVVVV  
Chapter 2: Warnings

Scully was checking her newsgroups when Mulder knocked on the  
door. She'd just killfiled a moronic crosspost about the sickest  
jokes on the net, then made a note on the idiot's address. She'd  
seen this particular name before, passing around dead baby jokes to  
some of her pregnant friends. The postmaster at Hopkins was going  
to get a letter about employees wasting university resources.  
Again.

Mulder sat down without an invitation. "So what do you think  
about Bullock's story?"

"That's what I was checking. It seems there are quite a few  
rumors out there about this Batman."

"So I've seen. Do you think that's what Matt's gargoyle  
really is?"

She sighed. "I don't know for sure. It could be, I suppose.  
The thing on the tape, assuming it wasn't fixed, could be a man in  
a cape."

"Okay, assuming for the moment that we're looking for Batman  
rather than gargoyles, what are we looking for?"

"What do we know about him?"

"He has a large number of technological devices at his beck  
and call, state of the art stuff. He disappears when the police  
arrive. He has a partner called Robin who is sometimes with him  
and sometimes not. He's an expert in martial arts and has been  
spotted all over the world, but mainly in the Gotham section of New  
York. And he has a really cool car."

Scully smiled. "Okay, that's a start. To own all these gadgets,  
he has to be getting money from somewhere. Have you heard  
anything about suspected theft?"

"There was something about a bribe a few years ago, but  
nothing came from it. I'd say he has backers with a lot of cash."

"Do you think there could be a Mafia or mob connection?"

"Only in that he keeps thwarting them both."

"In that case, his boss or bosses are either legit or hide it well  
enough to look it. And they have money to burn." Scully  
scrolled down the newsgroup list to . and  
opened it. "Here's a post about the party tomorrow night. Would  
you be surprised to know that the richest people in the city are  
all invited?" She looked at him.

"People with money to burn. Give me some names." Mulder took  
out his notebook.

"Burch, Renard, Vreeland ... " she read off the list given in the  
post, mentally marking off those she'd heard mention of before.  
When she'd finished, she quit her newsreader and logged off.

"There are probably more. These are some of the bigger names  
in this town. I'd say they own ninety percent of it, and that's  
what they'll admit to." Mulder looked thoughtful for a moment.

"What?"

"Here's a thought for you: what if the Illuminati are the ones  
backing the Batman?"

"We don't even know if the Illuminati exist. Or the Batman,  
for that matter."

"But if they all do, then it would make sense in a way. Think  
about it. They can control only so much by money. The streets are  
still dangerous. What better way to keep the crime rate down than  
to support a super-cop who doesn't have to follow the rules?  
Either way, we have to find out."

"I don't know if you noticed or not, but we don't have  
invitations."

"Matt does."

"Then you two go have fun. I'll be looking for gargoyles. Or  
bats. Or something. Good night."

He nodded. "Good night, Scully." He left for the adjoining  
room.

Neither of them heard the silent rustle of wings outside Scully's  
window, but if they had, they would have thought it a bird roused  
from sleep and thought nothing of it anyway. They may even  
have been correct.

VVVVV

"What is the Eff Bee Eye?" asked Hudson, scratching an itchy  
place on his left wing.

Lexington cut in, "It's like the police, only bigger. Is that  
right, Elisa?"

"Basically. They're national instead of local, and they have  
a lot more power."

"But we've kept ourselves hidden from the police before," said  
Broadway.

"Really well," said Brooklyn. "That was a great picture of us  
on the news after Coldstone woke up for the first time. Not to  
mention Demona's broadcast. I'm sure there have to be at least two  
or three people left in the city who don't know what we look like."

"That's why you have to stay out of sight. They'll only be  
snooping around for a few days and then they'll go back to  
Washington." She looked towards the ledge, where the leader of the  
group was watching the moonrise silently. "I don't like it either,  
but if you don't hide, they'll find you."

"Why are they here?" came the deep voice from the ledge.

"They're looking for a killer. Someone with wings and claws  
who kills people that the law can't or won't touch. Matt thinks  
it's you guys."

"We have killed no one in a thousand years," said Hudson, "and  
those deaths were in battle."

Goliath remained looking at the moon. Elisa suddenly knew  
what he was thinking before he said, "We have not, but we are not  
the only ones who haunt the night. There is Steel Clan, and the  
Pack, and the Mutates. And there is Demona."

"Xanatos' gargoyles are too new. Some of these took place in  
the 70's." Besides, I refuse to believe Derek would be involved in  
this, she added silently, not touching the pain that had built  
around thoughts of him. "The same argument applies to the Steel  
Clan. And it's not the Pack's style." She wouldn't finish.

He finished for her. "But Demona would have no objection to  
killing humans, especially those she saw as having forfeit their  
lives." Something in his bearing suggested that he would say more,  
but that he could not in front of her. Yet.

Then he asked something utterly out of the blue: "Are you  
going to Xanatos' party?"

"I wasn't planning on it. I really don't want to spend all  
night dodging questions."

"Could I request a favor of you?"

"Anything."

"Would you please go? I would feel more ... secure if someone  
were there to watch the people from the F.B.I."

She half-smiled. "You want me to babysit them?"

"Baby sit?"

"Never mind. All right. If it will you make you feel better,  
I'll go."

"Thank you. It means a great deal to me." He placed a hand on  
her shoulder, and her stomach felt warm despite the crisp night air.

"Well, since it's you." She smiled up at him, then became aware  
that the others were behind her and sighed inwardly. Who had it  
been who'd talked about having world enough and time? "I have  
to get back to work, guys. Someone's going to wonder why I take  
my coffee breaks on the roof." She pulled away from his touch and  
moved towards the stairway. "Promise me that you'll stay out of  
trouble?"

"We promise," said Lex and Brooklyn in unison. She waved and  
went down the stairs to her world below.

VVVVV

Diana yawned again. Normally, she didn't mind late nights. In  
fact, she tended to get her best work done while the rest of the  
city slept. Things were quiet then, or at least, quiet compared to  
New York days. She could take her latest case up to the rooftop  
and try to sort out the mind of someone who'd been driven to the  
brink by the pressure of the city, and Vincent would sit beside her  
in silence, reading or listening.

She'd have given much to be sitting there now with him, but  
this was her job. This was the reason she could stay home to  
work on cases; most of the time, she came through. This case had  
been a bear. She'd chosen it because it had looked simple: find  
out who'd stolen a rare museum piece, a mirror. It would be  
different from her typical load of murders, rapes, and kidnapings.  
She needed a break from getting into the minds of deranged people,  
and she'd thought that this would be it. It hadn't been. She'd  
found the thieves, but when she did, they were in the middle of a  
drug transaction. If Vincent hadn't come for her, she would have  
died. He'd killed the dealer after the man had pulled a gun on her,  
and they'd escaped into the night. She'd been more careful the  
next time, and had collared the thieves, minus mirror, a few hours  
ago. She'd just finished giving her statement, and now she wanted  
to go home.

"All right, Bennett," said Officer Morgan. "We can handle this  
from here." He offered her a restrained smile.

"Thanks, Morgan. I hope the shift ends soon."

"Not soon enough." She felt his eyes on her until she was  
well out of the room. She should be used to it. Hell, if their  
positions were reversed, she'd be the one leery of getting too  
close to the pet psychic on the squad. Probably. It no longer  
bothered her as much as it had at the beginning, when she'd simply  
known the location of suspects, when she'd been able to finger  
the perps in lineups before the victims could. She'd been teased  
back then mercilessly. At least they'd stopped the Rod Serling  
imitations after the MacLeod case. And after the incident with  
Rupert Thorne, no one had been laughing anymore.

Now they just watched her, wondering.

The sun was rising when she stepped outside. Most of the view  
was blocked by the tall buildings surrounding them, but she could  
see enough to make her smile. It had been a long time since she'd  
been awake for a sunrise. The light touched her, warming her  
through the chilly December air and she closed her eyes to feel it  
against her eyelids.

She felt eyes on her again and groaned inwardly. This was why  
she liked night better: nobody cared if you were different in the  
dark. She said simply, "Yes?" as she turned around.

The man watching her wasn't familiar to her. He had the same  
weary look she associated with other cops, but she knew she'd never  
seen him before.

"Sorry," he said. "For a minute, you looked like someone I  
knew."

She saw the woman beyond him, who had just noticed that her  
companion had stopped, and said neutrally, "That's okay. Happens  
all the time." She turned towards home, planning a quick snack  
before she hit her bed. Her stomach muttered at her.

Suddenly, she remembered something that she had to do before  
she got some sleep. "Promises to keep," she muttered, and headed  
towards the building where the D.A. of Manhattan kept his office.  
She had to see how formal this thing was going to be tonight.

VVVVV

"Mulder, are you okay?" Scully asked, worried.

"I'm not sure. I think I'm going crazy."

"You're not. She looked like Samantha." She saw the pain  
flash quickly over his face and vanish again to wherever he kept  
it. She touched his shoulder. "But she wasn't."

"I know. But I can hope." He gave her a quirky smile and went  
inside. She followed him in, past the same desks they'd seen the  
night before. Bluestone and Maza were sitting at their desks, he  
drinking something from a mug and filling out paperwork, she  
filling out electronic paperwork sans coffee.

Matt looked up. "We're just about to get out of here for the day.  
Care for some breakfast?" He shot a glance to his partner.  
"Maybe you can even convince Elisa to go to the shindig tonight."

Maza rolled her eyes. "All right. I'll go if you stop bugging me  
about it." Bluestone grinned. "But I still say double-dating is  
for the birds."

"People used to say that about flying, too."

"You go jumping off any rooftops lately, Bluestone?"

Scully smiled. For perhaps the first time, she wondered if  
she and Mulder appeared the same way to outsiders. Partners, when  
they were paired right, shared a special kind of bond that said  
without words that they trusted one another with their lives every  
day. In some ways, that kind of partnership was closer than  
marriage. To the people on the outside, it no doubt looked like a  
lot of bickering and arguments as to who had to take out the trash  
this time.

Maza turned off her monitor, while Bluestone tapped his pile  
of papers together neatly. The rest of the night shift was  
beginning to clear out in dribs and drabs. When the bustle of the  
changing of the guard was nearly complete, the two detectives were  
ready to go.

Maza begged off breakfast, claiming fatigue, and promised to  
meet them at the hotel around four. The remaining threesome went  
to Dean and Deluca's for breakfast. Scully stuck with coffee and  
a croissant.

"So did you find anything out last night?" asked Bluestone as  
soon at they sat down.

"A little," said Mulder. "What do you know about Batman?"

Bluestone whistled. "Far too much, probably. Why?"

"There's a possibility that he's the one you've been looking  
for," Scully said.

Bluestone shook his head, saying, "Uh uh. I know what I saw.  
You've seen the tape."

"What we saw," she replied, "was a quick flash of something  
with wings. Think about it. If the stories are true, he'd have  
the means, the motive, and the opportunity for all of them."

"The stories are true. I've seen him." Scully glanced at  
Mulder. "He used to be very close to the last police chief."

"Gordon. So we've heard."

"You've been talking to Bullock, haven't you?" Mulder nodded.  
"He's had it in for Batman for years. I never could understand  
why. Batman was nothing but good for this city."

"Was?"

"I haven't heard anything of him in ages. Some people think  
one of his enemies finally offed him, but none of the street  
networks have heard anything about it."

"What do you think?"

"I think maybe he got tired. He wasn't old, but he wasn't young  
anymore, either. Maybe he wanted to settle down and have a  
real life like everyone else."

Scully fingered her briefcase. "But you said there was  
another murder last week."

"That's one of the reasons I don't think he's involved."

"But gargoyles may be."

"I don't know!" he shouted, then lowered his voice to avoid  
stares from the people around him. "If I knew, I wouldn't have had  
to bring you here." He took a long slurp from his coffee, then  
stared at the cup. "I'm beginning to think I should lay off this  
stuff."

"For now," said Scully, "we're going to assume that we're  
looking for the Batman. Whoever is sponsoring him has to be  
wealthy, possibly a group of wealthy people." Matt looked up.

"The Illuminati."

"That's what I was thinking," Mulder said, and gave Scully his  
best 'See??' look. "That's why we need you to tell us everyone you  
think will be at this party tonight."

"Considering he's invited half of the city, that may not be as easy as  
it sounds." Scully handed him the list of names. "This looks fairly  
complete for the ones I know. You'll want to add Bruce Wayne,  
Dick Grayson and Yibeli Baird to it, though." He handed it back and  
she took down the names quickly as he dug through his coat pockets  
for something. "Here are the people I've spoken to about what  
happened on the nights no one can remember."

"Except these people," said Mulder.

"Right. Here's an interesting bit of information for you: of  
the people on that list, all but three are visually or hearing-  
impaired."

"Where were you, Matt?"

"On my way to work. Next thing I knew, it was morning. And  
it happened again the next night."

"Until there was an explosion in the sky. Got it."

"You still don't believe me." Bluestone looked at Mulder as  
if betrayed.

"Give me something to believe, and I will. I want to."

"Talk to those people. You will."

VVVVV

The sunlight woke her. She opened her eyes, yawned, and  
rolled over. The other half of the bed was empty. Damn.  
Stretching, Fox sat up, letting the sheets spill around her. She  
appreciated it when David didn't wake her up in the morning, but it  
could get annoying when she awoke in the mood for more than just  
breakfast in bed.

Breakfast. The thought set her stomach churning. She placed  
a careful hand on the small bulge of her abdomen, and whispered,  
"Stop that." After a few moments, the gurgling settled enough for  
her to get out of bed. She slipped her robe on and padded in bare  
feet to David's office. She knocked on the slightly-ajar door.

"Come in," said her husband's voice, and she smiled as she  
opened the door. She'd fallen for that voice, although she teased  
him regularly that he sounded like he should be giving orders on  
the bridge of a ship. "Good morning, Fox."

"Morning. What time did you wake up?"

"Around six. I wanted to get an early start. Everything has to be  
perfect for tonight." He stood and held out his hand over his  
desk, and she took it, following his arm around until she was on  
the same side as he was. He kissed her softly, then bent down  
to her stomach. "Good morning, kid." He patted the bulge.

"Sometimes I wonder if you love me for my uterus," she said,  
not completely kidding.

"You know that's not true." He sat back down and tugged her  
down into the chair with him. He was right, of course. She knew  
very well that he didn't love her just for having the baby, but ...

"Then why can't we have this party just for us? Why bring the  
Illuminati into it?"

His eyes went shadowed, and she knew that he would not give  
her the complete truth. She was used to this. She thought.

"Because this affords me the perfect opportunity to get some of  
the primary members together without looking suspicious. I  
would have invited them to the wedding, but for obvious reasons,  
that wasn't feasible."

"What? Illuminati don't like gargoyles?"

"Time travel gives them nosebleeds."

"Of course. Silly me." She smirked, then kissed him on  
impulse. He returned it fully, and she began to wonder if the  
chair would hold the two of them comfortably for a long period of  
time.

"Pardon me," said a smooth voice from the doorway. Owen.  
Double damn.

"Yes, Owen?" said David, just enough out of breath to make her  
feel better at having been interrupted.

"The caterers called. They are going to have difficulties in  
filling the order in time for the party. Shall I call someone else  
or merely convince them that ours is the most important in their  
career?"

"Convince them. If you can't convince them, go there and offer  
the cooks twice their normal salary to come work for me from  
now on. Then fire them next week."

"Very good, Mr. Xanatos." He disappeared, and Fox felt a  
strange relief. She liked Owen in the abstract; he was David's  
butler, chief aide, occasional alternate personality, and certainly  
the closest thing he'd ever had to a best friend. However, she was  
always uncomfortable around him in a way she couldn't explain. If  
pressed to the issue, she would have to say that she felt less ...  
real around him, as if he were the only true person in the world,  
and the rest of them but shadows.

She hugged David closer to her. It was better to not think  
like that, instead think of the party tonight, and the man in her  
arms, and the child dancing beneath her heart.

VVVVV  
Chapter 3: Inquiries

The meeting seemed to drag for hours. Elliot enjoyed being in  
the thick of things as far as his business was concerned, but he  
despised meetings run by pencil-necked paper mongers. He was  
scheduled to go to the current project site this afternoon, and he  
couldn't wait. Instead of listening to budgets, he was already  
imagining the dirt getting beneath his fingernails and the sight of  
a building's skeleton stretching towards the sky in a shape he'd  
carefully designed. After a period of time no less than the last  
Ice Age, the board adjourned. He sighed with relief.

On second thought, maybe he'd go there this morning instead.  
He nodded to his bodyguards. Just as he had almost escaped,  
Kirsten, looking far more frazzled than was her usual wont, stopped  
him.

"I'm sorry, Boss, but she said that she had to speak with  
you." She motioned towards a woman waiting a few feet away.  
Cathy! his mind thought immediately, and dropped just as fast. It  
happened sometimes. He'd see an attractive woman with light hair  
and he would think for an instant that everything had been just a  
vacant dream from which he was finally awakening. Funny how things  
never quite worked out that way.

The woman came forward. "Agent Dana Scully, F.B.I. I need to  
ask you a few questions." She showed him her credentials, and he  
inspected them carefully. They appeared to be authentic. If they  
weren't, well, it wasn't as if he would be completely surprised.

"I'd been planning to visit one of my worksites. Is this  
important?"

"It could be. If I could just have a few minutes of your  
time, Mr. Burch?" She didn't sound like she was asking. He  
nodded, then indicated to his guards to wait outside. He had an  
odd premonition that he didn't want them eavesdropping.

"In my office, then, Agent ... "

"Scully."

"Yes." He led the way and moved behind his desk, barely  
conscious of the safety and, yes, power that he felt when facing  
someone across it. "Please have a seat." She sat down in the  
chair opposite. "Now may I ask what the F.B.I. wants with me?"

"This may sound odd, Mr. Burch, but have you ever heard of a  
society called the Illuminati?"

He had made it his business to never show emotion when it  
could betray him, whether in poker, high-stakes finance, or his  
marriage. It had saved his career more than once, by not allowing  
a competitor to see his bluff. Therefore, with a perfectly bland  
face, he asked her, "Who?" with just enough hint of disbelief to  
push the doubt back on her.

She looked uncomfortable, but persisted. "I'm currently  
investigating a lead in a murder case. My partner believes the  
Illuminati may have something to do with it."

"Then why ask me? I have no idea what you're talking about."  
He gave her a carefully practiced smile, the same smile that had  
convinced Joy to marry him, and her sister to trust him with the  
most precious secret they both shared.

"Because your name is linked with one of the murders. You  
were arrested for the murder of District Attorney John Moreno six  
years ago." He went cold.

"I see you've done some background work. However, if you'll  
go deeper, you will find that the case never went to trial, that  
the murder was attributed to Moreno's mob connections." His voice  
barely quavered. He still had nightmares about that horrible  
night, and the hellish days that followed. Too many times, he'd  
woken screaming, certain that his skin was on fire again.

"Then those connections have a lot to answer for. I have a  
file containing over fifty similar murders, all with the same kind  
of wounds as Moreno's. The latest one occurred last week." She  
waited, watching him.

His stomach twisted. He'd seen the mention in the paper the  
morning after, and he'd called to make certain Diana was all right.  
But how could the F.B.I. know that? Then he realized. They  
didn't.

"Agent Scully, I've been in this chair for six years." He wheeled  
out from behind the desk again to give her a better look.  
"Cyberbiotics' latest model. I get around pretty well with it, but  
not that well. I'm afraid you have the wrong man."

Scully appeared uncomfortable, and her eyes dropped. "I'm not  
accusing you of anything, Mr. Burch. I just need some answers."

"Any more answers you'd like you can have, but you'll have to  
get them from my lawyers. I'm afraid I've run out of time." He  
moved to the door, giving her no real option but to follow.

"If you should change your mind, this is where I'll be staying.  
Give me a call. It might save someone's life." He took the piece  
of paper from her, and pretended to read it as she left. When the  
door had closed behind her, he went back to his desk and pressed  
the button for Kirsten.

She came in moments later. "Yes, Boss?"

"Can you take a long lunch break?"

"Sure. Where am I going?"

"Below. Tell Vincent the F.B.I. is asking questions." Her  
eyes went wide, and he said quickly, "They don't know anything.  
Yet. Right now, they think Gabriel's pals are behind a few  
unsolved killings. I intend to keep them thinking that." He was  
not even aware that he was smiling as he began planning.

VVVVV

"So how much luck have you had?" asked Scully as her partner  
took a bite of McSomething. He chewed quickly and swallowed.

"Some. I managed to get chats with Vreeland, Clamp and Stark.  
But I couldn't get anything out of them about the Illuminati."

"You were expecting a full confession?"

"I was hoping for a reaction. Also, they all have perfect  
alibis for the night of our murder. I looked into some of the  
witnesses of the missing night, too."

"And?"

"Not enough." He sighed. "Only two were even home, and  
neither one saw or heard anything out of the ordinary. I'd say we  
try again tomorrow; people might be home on a Saturday."

She nodded. "I managed to find one of the witnesses on my  
list at home, but she didn't notice anything, either. Then again,  
she has a good excuse," she said, remembering her very brief  
conversation, "she just had a baby. I couldn't get a meeting with  
Renard. Burch doesn't have an alibi, but I've checked his  
background. Almost total paralysis below the waist from an  
accident six years ago."

"Almost?"

"He has one son, Elliot Andrew Junior. Four years old."

Mulder nodded. "I'm pretty sure none of our party guests did  
the job him or herself."

"Probably not, but I did some checking on the names Bluestone  
gave us. Bruce Wayne is the head of Wayne Enterprises, and Dick  
Grayson is his right hand man. Both have perfectly clear records,  
but I found a reference to Wayne's fiancee, Selena Kyle. Would you  
believe she used to dress up in a cat suit and rob jewelry stores  
for fun? And something else: according to rumor, she was the only  
criminal the Batman wouldn't bring to justice. Some people think  
they were involved."

"I'd say we need to pay the Waynes a visit."

As they got out of their seats, Scully noticed two men sitting  
in the booth behind theirs. She'd heard them quietly conversing,  
and something had been familiar about one voice that she couldn't  
place and hadn't thought much of till just then. The one facing  
her was fairly nondescript: balding, with dark hair growing long in  
the back, a little on the pudgy side but not unpleasantly so, and  
a shaggy but well-kept moustache. He wore sunglasses. The man  
with his back to hers wore a blue baseball cap, just showing a  
whitish fringe of hair beneath it, and a leather jacket. His was  
the voice she'd recognized, a soft, cultured British accent with  
rich, resonant undertones.

The other man noticed her scrutiny, and his companion turned.  
At the sight of his face, familiar to almost every person in  
America, Scully turned crimson and hurried to follow Mulder. As  
she left, she caught only a bit of a phrase about three women named  
Jenny, Ariel and Shana.

VVVVV

They were allowed into the gates with surprisingly little  
trouble. Scully parked the rental in the spacious driveway behind  
a Rolls. The master of the house appeared to be home.

They were met at the door by a stiff-looking British butler,  
who led them in after a careful examination of their i.d. He  
stopped outside a large door and knocked.

"Yes, Alfred?" came a voice from the other side.

"Master Bruce, a lady and a gentleman from the F.B.I. are here  
to see you and Miss Selena."

"Show them in, please." Alfred opened the door, but did not  
enter. Mulder followed Scully into what appeared to be a study.  
A man in his mid-forties stood behind a desk near one side of the  
room. Mulder had the weirdest feeling he'd met him before.

"Would you like some tea, sir?"

"That would be wonderful, Alfred. Thank you." He offered his  
hand to Scully. "Bruce Wayne."

"Agent Dana Scully. My partner, Fox Mulder." Mulder shook  
hands obediently. This show was Scully's.

"Nice to meet you." He smiled broadly as he sat down, but  
there was something forced about it. He showed them the chairs.  
"How may I help you?"

"We're investigating a murder." Immediately, his face went  
blank.

"Who?" was all the man said. With a sudden insight, Mulder  
understood the odd familiarity about him. He had the look of  
someone who had seen too many good people die for no reason.

"The man's name was John Gehrke." Wayne looked confused for  
a moment.

"I don't recognize the name. Was he one of my employees?"

"No. He was involved in what appears to have been a drug deal  
gone bad. We think it might have something to do with a society  
called the Illuminati." Wayne looked relieved, then confused. But  
like his smile, it was a faked confusion.

Mulder cut in, "We were hoping you might shed some light on  
the subject."

"Very funny. So what is this society?"

Scully's mouth twitched. Mulder wondered if she were thinking  
that she was beginning to sound like him. "They may be involved in  
a number of high-level conspiracies. We believe they may have some  
link with the Batman." Wayne raised one eyebrow.

"Batman?"

"I realize how it sounds. However, your fiancee was rumored  
to have some dealings with him in the past."

"Was I now?" A woman came in from another door that he hadn't  
noticed previously. She was tall, slender, blonde, perfect. She  
walked slowly to Wayne's desk, where he immediately stood.

"Selena, dear, these are Agents Scully and Mulder from the  
F.B.I."

"A pleasure," she said. "If you know about Batman, you know  
that he was the one who finally brought me in. It was the best  
thing he could have done for me. I got the help I needed. What  
more do you need to know?"

Scully pulled out her file and opened to the police photograph  
of the dealer's body, then placed another photograph, one of Kyle  
complete in her Catwoman outfit. "We need to know where you were  
last Thursday evening." Kyle blanched at the picture, and Wayne  
quickly covered it. He stood, anger in his eyes.

"I know what you're trying to insinuate. It won't work. Selena and  
I went out to dinner last Thursday at Tauraso's. We were there until  
ten-thirty, and then we came home."

"Do you have any other witnesses?"

"My associate, Dick Grayson. You can find him at the office,  
along with my attorney. I believe Alfred can show you the way  
out." He looked towards the doorway, where the butler had  
magically appeared with four cups of tea.

Scully said, "I'm sorry if we upset you, Ms. Kyle. We're only  
looking for the truth."

Kyle handed her the pictures. "It's not in there. That was  
an old truth. I promise you that."

The butler led them back to the front door, but before he could  
politely shoo them out, Mulder had an idea. "May we please  
have your name, sir?" He got out his pen and paper and waited.

"Alfred Pennyworth." The man was nonplussed; Mulder had been  
right in thinking that visitors probably ignored his existence.

"Mr. Pennyworth, how long have you been employed by Mr.  
Wayne?"

"All his life. I was employed by his parents previously."

"So you know him fairly well."

"I would dare to say so. And I know that no matter what you  
might think he or Miss Selena might have done, they are not  
involved."

"Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth," said Scully, obviously ready to  
leave. Mulder wasn't about to go just yet, though.

"One more question, if you would." The man sighed deeply, as  
if put upon.

"Yes?"

"What do you know about David Xanatos?"

"Quite a bit, actually. He's one of the wealthiest men in the  
country. His wife is expecting their first child sometime in  
June. His favorite midnight snack is an oatmeal-raisin cookie  
and milk." He saw the stares from both of them and explained: "His  
assistant and I are friends. I gave him the cookie recipe in  
exchange for his secret tea blend." He indicated the cooling cups.  
"If you have any further questions ... "

"We know," said Mulder, "we can ask your lawyer." Pennyworth  
inclined his head. They took the hint and went through the door  
into the thin December sunlight.

"Well, that was productive," he remarked as they pulled out of  
the driveway.

"Is it just me, or does everyone in this city seem to be  
hiding something?"

"Careful. You're beginning to sound like me again."

She smiled. "Does that mean you're going to start denying the  
possibility of gargoyles and batmen in New York?"

"Not likely." He watched the houses out his window as they  
went by slowly. "Nice neighborhood." A limousine went by on  
Scully's side. Oddly, the passenger's window was opened, and he  
caught a brief flash of shocking red hair and a face unlike any  
he'd ever seen, gone in the space of time it took to draw in a  
breath. Her eyes, he thought. Her eyes aren't human.

"Mulder?"

"Sorry. Just watching the scenery." He turned to his window,  
and watched the limo in the mirror on his side until it turned down  
a driveway and disappeared.

VVVVV

The rented car dropped her off at the front of the house. The  
driver offered to help her with her bags, but she waved him off and  
took them herself, waiting until he was gone before she entered the  
combination to open the door.

She dropped the packages in the dark hallway, then kicked off  
her painful shoes. By the time she'd reached the parlour to check  
her answering machine, her hair was unfettered and moved wildly  
around her shoulders as it should. No messages. She hadn't  
been expecting any, but one never knew when opportunity might  
call. It certainly hadn't knocked lately.

She sat down on the sheet covering what passed for a couch and  
stretched out. She'd spent all day among the humans, ostensibly  
looking for a dress. In actuality, she'd been scouting for signs  
of the others. She was certain that, given a properly methodical  
search, she could find out where the rest of the clan roosted  
during the daylight hours. It would just take a little time and a  
great deal of patience. She wasn't good at patience, but she was  
learning. Besides, she had to do something during the day.

Of course, the end of this day would be especially satisfying.  
She'd found herself something appropriate to wear, and had been  
forming a plan in her mind since the invitation had come. In just  
a few short hours, she could pay a completely invited visit on  
Xanatos and toast the impending arrival of his little brat.

A slow smile spread across her face as she picked up the piece  
of embossed paper, addressed to one Angelica MacAlpin. The fools  
had never even guessed.

Demona's laugh echoed through the empty house.

VVVVV  
Chapter 4: Gatherings

Elisa looked at her reflection in the mirror one last time and  
grimaced. She'd felt far less silly dressed up as Belle for  
Halloween. Then again, she'd be keeping much of the same company  
as she had that night. Minus the boys, she thought, and wasn't  
sure whether the thought made her happy or sad.

Life had been so complicated since the ill-fated night she'd  
gone poking around Xanatos' castle. She'd seen more incredible  
things in the past year than she had dreamed possible. Gargoyles?  
Fairies?! And Derek, now changed into some genetic nightmare. She  
bit her lip, wondering how her life would have been different if  
she had just not been so curious.

Her parents wouldn't be put off forever. Eventually, they would have  
to find out what had happened to their son, and it would only take a  
little more for them to learn the why of it. What would they say?  
What would they think of the strange beings whom Derek held  
responsible for his metamorphosis? The thought that they might  
blame the gargoyles, blame a specific gargoyle, made her cold  
inside. If it came down to her parents and Derek against her friends,  
she wasn't certain which side she would choose. She could only  
hope it wouldn't come to that.

She ran a quick hand through her hair. She would just leave  
it down tonight; no use getting too dressed up to be around people  
she didn't like.

"Keep an eye on the place, Cagney," she said, giving the cat  
a healthy scratch behind the ears. "I'll try to be home early."  
She turned off the light and closed the door.

VVVVV

The Vreelands were the first to arrive. Fox was mildly  
surprised, considering that Ronnie usually just had to be the  
fashionably late center of attention. Instead, when she and that  
annoying brother of hers showed up, she ran in and threw her arms  
around Fox's neck, squealing about how wonderful the news was.

Fox marked that down in her mental book as another strike  
against the woman, then forced a smile as Ronnie immediately went  
into a detailed description of her last trip to Asia. Old money,  
she thought wearily. They all inbred. Had to be the explanation.  
Thankfully, the next batch of guests came in a group of six, and  
she had an excuse to pawn off the woman on them to slip into the  
kitchen.

Owen was currently occupied greeting people at the front door,  
so she actually made it through the kitchen and to her bedroom  
without seeing him. She felt a little silly about having to sneak  
around her own house, but it didn't stop her from watching her back  
as she went through the halls each day. She sat down on the edge  
of the bed.

David came out of the bathroom adjusting his cuffs. "Is there  
something wrong?"

"Just that Veronica Vreeland was the first to get here." He  
made a face. "I needed a break."

"Well, it'll only be for a few hours. Besides, if I know  
Ronnie, she's here early because she has other plans for the  
evening."

"I certainly hope so." She stood up. "Ready?"

"Ready. I would have been ready earlier if it hadn't been for  
that last call."

"Anything I'd be interested in hearing?"

"Just business, dear." She added a mark next to David's name  
in the mental book.

"In that case, let's go greet our guests properly." She took his arm,  
and they walked sedately through their castle back to the Great Hall.  
She wondered again what things had been like back when the castle  
was in Scotland and a princess named Katharine wandered these  
same halls. She'd seen it in its glory for the brief duration of her  
mad honeymoon, and since in her dreams, she had walked the  
ancient passageways again. Sometimes she dreamt that she was  
Katharine, and occasionally, she would look up as Fox herself was  
doing now, and see a familiar and beloved face that bore a haunting  
resemblance to Owen's.

A cold wind blew through her again, but it was no doubt just  
the drafty castle.

Several more people had arrived by the time they reached the  
Hall. The television journalist Gleeson was already chatting with  
Ronnie Vreeland and Tony Stark. Fox silently hoped they'd all  
accidentally fall off the top of the castle. Another couple  
arrived, and she recognized them as a pair of newspaper reporters,  
possibly the two most famous in the city. David always enjoyed a  
challenge, and the idea of holding a top secret meeting of the  
Illuminati while Lane and Kent were in the building had been too  
much to resist. They began mingling with the other guests, no  
doubt hoping to get a big scoop for the Saturday edition of the  
"Planet".

With some amusement, she noticed Elisa Maza on the arm of some  
man she'd never seen before. At least she'd dressed for the  
occasion, in a slim, sleeveless, forest brown dress. Her date, a  
tall, thin, vaguely geeky-looking man, wore a nondescript suit that  
would have been appropriate for a wedding or a funeral. Her  
partner Bluestone had also accepted the invitation, and had brought  
with him a lovely blonde woman in an emerald green number. The  
four of them stood out among the rest of the guests, obviously ill  
at ease with the show of wealth around them, Maza and Bluestone  
more so than the other two. The strangers appeared to be looking  
for something or someone.

David pulled slightly at her arm and led her towards one of  
the waiters they'd hired for the evening. He plucked a champagne  
for himself and a sparkling cider for her, and she grimaced as she  
sipped at it.

"Yummy. Think I can at least toast myself with some of the  
real stuff?"

"Not on your life. You know what the doctor said." She  
muttered under her breath about what the doctor could do with the  
sparkling cider. "Tell her yourself. She was invited, too."

"Is there anyone in New York that Owen didn't put on the guest  
list?"

"Yes, but only because they didn't leave a forwarding address  
when they left."

"Gotcha."

"Fox! David! Congratulations!" She turned to see who it  
was, putting on her smile for the evening.

VVVVV

The line of limousines nearly made her head spin. At least it  
was moving quickly. They would be at the front door in a minute or  
two.

"Don't worry about it," Joy was telling her. "The trick to  
surviving one of these awful things is to smile and nod in the  
right places. Kinda like listening to him." She jerked her thumb  
at her husband and grinned mischievously.

Elliot put on a serious expression. "I'll remember that the  
next time I try to tell you something."

Joy smiled vacantly and nodded. Joe howled.

The car pulled up to the front of the Eyrie Building. Joy tapped  
the window to let the driver know they were ready. The automatic  
door opened as the valets moved away quickly. When the doors  
stopped moving, Elliot wheeled himself out.

Joe said under his breath, "The Eagle has landed." Diana  
poked him and got out of the car.

Xanatos' assistant, in formal attire down to the white gloves  
on his hands, met them at the door. Elliot handed him their  
invitations.

"Mr. and Mrs. Burch. It's good to see that you could make it."  
Joe gave him his own invitation. "Mr. Maxwell. Welcome to  
the party." He nodded politely to Diana. "Madame." He held his  
arm out, indicating a large door a few feet away. "The gentleman  
in the elevator will take you to the proper floor."

"Thank you, Owen," said Elliot, and moved towards the  
elevator. They followed.

The door opened as they arrived, and Diana heard Owen greeting  
a Mr. Wayne as it shut again behind them. The ride was short, but  
she could see the large number of floors ticking by. And then,  
they were there.

Diana's first impression was of space, and irrationally, she  
thought that she had somehow come outside. Then she realized it  
was simply one vast room. The top of Xanatos' skyscraper was a  
castle, supposedly brought stone by stone from Scotland. This must  
be the main hall, she thought. The walls still held multicolored  
tapestries from centuries before, but where torches once graced the  
room with flickering light, more practical if less romantic  
electric lights glimmered.

She could feel the years surrounding her, as if the people who  
had once called this place home had left more than footsteps and  
fingerprints. There was presence here, unlike anything she'd felt  
in some time. Some great tragedy had taken place long ago. For an  
instant, she smelled smoke, and knew that there had been fire and  
death on these stones, but death unlike anything she'd ever before  
experienced. She could almost hear the crumbling of rock beneath  
blows, and she wondered why the screams were so quiet.

Joe touched her arm. "You okay?"

Diana pulled herself back to the present, and could not help  
the smile in her eyes at his concern. District Attorney he might  
be, but when he was worried, Joe looked like nothing so much as a  
little boy. "I'm fine."

"You look like you just saw a ghost."

"If I did, it was a thousand years old." She patted his arm.  
"You worry too much."

Joe was mollified, but Elliot continued watching her until she  
nodded at him reassuringly. He understood her better than anyone  
else, or at least anyone Up Top. He knew what her flashes were  
like and what they cost her. The strange friendship they had  
developed allowed for that kind of sharing. Joy was her sister,  
but she would never know precisely what it was that set Diana  
apart, only that she was. Elliot knew, and as time went on, that  
knowledge no longer frightened either of them, but gave them a  
measure of unfamiliar peace.

Joy spotted the hosts, and they went to congratulate them.

VVVVV

Mulder was on his second glass of champagne and beginning to  
enjoy himself. The social hour was almost finished, and dinner  
would be starting soon. His stomach made an appropriate noise and  
he saw the amused look on Scully's face. They'd broken away from  
their "dates" to mingle among the crowd. It had been surprisingly  
simple to blend in with the others. Despite the ostensible  
distinctions of class, he'd noticed that a glass of champagne or  
two made everyone in the room equal. There had even been one guy  
walked around offering everyone Jelly Babies until Burnett had led  
him quietly out of the room. He hadn't been crazy, thought Mulder,  
just tipsy, like most of the press of life around them. They were  
all lonely human moths straining towards electric bulbs to die  
young and beautiful. He could actually picture some of them with  
wings, gliding into those lights.

He glanced at his glass. Where had that come from? He  
decided quickly that this would be his last alcoholic drink for the  
night; the waiters were serving sparkling cider for the sake of the  
mother-to-be.

Scully tapped his shoulder and pointed out a couple with her  
eyes. "Those are the Bairds. Shall we mingle?"

"Let's wander close to them. I don't see getting anywhere  
tonight by asking too many questions. Just keep an eye on people.  
See if anyone disappears for too long."

"In this place? Who'd notice?" She had a point. The crowd  
was large and was growing by the minute. Had this guy invited the  
entire city? Then Scully murmured, "We're being watched."

Mulder glanced casually in the direction she indicated as they  
moved amiably towards a large knot of people. Xanatos' assistant  
Burnett had come upstairs to babysit the group while his employers  
had slipped out for a breath of fresh air. Currently, he was  
watching the two of them with a carefully concealed fascination.

Suddenly, something took his attention pointedly away from  
them, and Mulder followed his gaze.

There was a woman walking through the crowd, a redhaired woman  
with eyes unlike any he'd ever imagined. The woman from the  
limousine. The one he'd seen in such a quick, burning glimpse.  
She'd come. And Owen Burnett was not pleased at all with seeing  
her there.

VVVVV

Scully saw Mulder's eyes widen, and turned to see Burnett  
staring at a beautiful redhead, who was striding across the room  
like she owned it. Her eyes were bright with a kind of secret  
glee, and her perfect mouth was turned as though trying to hide a  
wide leer. Her outfit was a violent purple affair, covering her  
arms and torso completely, if tightly, but leaving only a token bit  
of cloth below her waist. She wore little jewelry, but what she  
did have on, a heavy gold necklace, matching earrings, and a large  
intricately designed gold ring, said volumes to even Scully's  
unpracticed eye. The socialite Vreeland came from old money, but  
this woman's wealth was old when Vreeland's ancestors were starving  
peasants.

The woman saw Burnett's concerned look, and let her mouth  
finish its journey into a sweet, sincere smile.

Scully was suddenly very afraid.

Once his initial shock had abated, Burnett rushed to her side,  
and said in a fierce whisper that Scully could just barely make  
out: "How did you get in here?"

The woman laughed, and there was just enough madness in the  
sound for the people around her to surreptitiously slide further  
away. "Why, I handed the nice gentleman downstairs my invitation.  
I'm disappointed in you, Owen; I only had to wait a few minutes  
before you left your post." He frowned deeply.

Maza, who'd been inspecting the buffet with Bluestone, came  
behind them and said playfully, "Come on. I know Owen's kinda  
weird, but ... " She saw the woman with him and went pale. In her  
peripheral vision, Scully saw her instinctively reach for a weapon  
that wasn't there tonight. Her hands clasped air, and began  
curling into fists and releasing.

"Who is she?" asked Mulder.

"Trouble," was all she replied.

VVVVV

Her mind raced. What was Demona doing here, especially so  
close to sunset? It was quarter till five. The sun would go down  
in at most ten minutes. She had to be plotting something that  
would happen soon. Crazy or not, she wasn't mad enough to let a  
room full of people watch her change into gargoyle form. She  
hoped.

Elisa scouted the room quickly, and saw Xanatos and Fox enter  
from the other side. As distasteful as she found the thought, she  
had to get to them before Demona did. There was no way to tell  
what she would do when she spotted them. Which happened a second  
later.

Demona's smile grew wider, and she said in a voice once  
accustomed to being heard in this same hall: "Xanatos! How good to  
see you again!"

A number of people turned their heads, and Elisa groaned  
inside. She was trying to get their attention, and it was working.  
One Simply Did Not Yell at Gatherings Like This. Fox saw her a  
split second before her husband did, and in an almost comical way,  
their faces took on the exact same look of disbelief that quickly  
turned to disguised panic.

Demona shrugged off Owen's arm as though he'd been a child;  
Elisa wondered how much it had cost him to not put her into a  
restraining hold instantly. That was another thing One Did Not Do  
at Parties, and Demona knew it. She walked through the crowd like  
it didn't exist. Then again, they were only humans.

She grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and  
took a swig. She made a face. "This swill gets worse with every  
passing year," she stated too loudly. The people around her  
affected to ignore her, but it was becoming more than obvious that  
she wasn't about to be ignored.

She stopped three feet away from the parents to be.

"Milord. Milady," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I  
would like to extend my deepest congratulations on your impending  
arrival."

"I see Owen forgot to make the final cut on the guest list,"  
said Xanatos, unimpressed.

"I'm hurt," she replied mockingly. "And here I came all this  
way to bring you a gift for that child of yours."

"Thanks, but you can keep it," said Fox. "You've done enough  
as it is."

"Now Fox, don't tell me you're still angry about that little  
incident with ... "

Xanatos interrupted. "Maybe we should take this outside."

"Of course! We can watch the sunset together and reminisce  
about the old times."

Elisa felt a hand on her shoulder. Mulder's. "Is she an old  
lover?" Elisa grimaced.

"You have no idea." She spotted Owen moving around the  
periphery of the room. "Excuse me." She wasn't fond of  
Xanatos' head flunky, but for this, they were on the same side.  
She motioned to him. He nodded to her and they circled around  
Demona from opposite sides.

The human-gargoyle continued in a louder voice, enough to  
command the attention of everyone in the room: "I'd like to propose  
a toast! To Fox. May you have the same fortune with your mate  
that I had with mine." Her eyes glittered like cold diamonds.

Fox smiled back with the same saccharine vindictiveness.  
"Actually, I was planning on keeping mine." Demona dropped her  
pretense of a smile.

"You'll pay for that one. Child." She placed her fingers into her glass,  
and Elisa saw her move her ring to one side. She began murmuring  
something in bastard Latin, which sounded to Elisa's ears like "Me  
masticaste, placer este!". Elisa still wasn't certain of what the woman's  
twisted mind had dreamed up for Fox, but she had to prevent it.

"Stop in the name of the law!" She always felt silly when she  
said that, but it worked. Demona's head jerked around, and then  
her smile returned.

"On second thought, perhaps I'll just give my present to you."  
She pulled her hand out of the champagne and flicked the wetness  
off towards Elisa, who had just enough presence of mind to drop  
to the floor. The droplets hit the wall behind her and sparked  
vermillion before the stone started dissolving. Madly, she was  
already thinking of ways to explain this particular substance to  
Forensics.

Elisa rolled, wishing she'd brought her piece and knowing that it  
was too late, that Demona would already be advancing upon her and  
that she would do whatever she'd planned before any human could  
stop her. She glanced up.

Demona had raised her arm again, and her eyes were less human  
than Goliath's had ever been, even in battle. She thought of him,  
wondering who would tell him when the sun went down.

A light-haired Fury attacked. Demona fell in a tangle of arms  
and legs with Owen scrabbling for the glass. It slipped from her  
fingers and crashed into the floor. Owen and Demona rolled, and  
then he was on top of her, his left arm pinning her throat, his  
right grasping her arms together in a dangerously intimate manner.  
Xanatos pulled Fox off the ground and away from the growing spill,  
as Demona thrashed under the weight of the man above her.

Elisa got to her feet and ran to Owen's aid. Demona saw her  
and stopped struggling.

"You're under arrest."

"For what?" Her voice had returned to its former cadence as  
she went limp. She sounded as if she'd just been told over dinner  
that a friend had gone to the hospital.

"Attempted murder." For a start.

"Oh really? Since when does sprinkling champagne count as  
attempted murder?" She looked regretfully at the puddle on the  
floor. Which appeared to be a perfectly ordinary spill of alcohol.  
No dissolving carpets. No disappearing floor. Just broken glass  
and liquid.

Elisa cursed inwardly. It had been magic, of course. Kind of  
hard to prove murderous intent using a spell in a court of law.

"Besides," Demona's voice had become an almost-seductive purr,  
"I really don't think you'd want me to go into the police station  
tonight, would you, Detective? I can assure you that I'd have  
quite a story to tell them." She saw Owen tighten his grip on her  
wrists just enough to make her wince. "You didn't want to do  
that."

Suddenly, she twisted, bringing her knee up sharply. In an  
instant, she'd flipped a now-suffering Owen off her and sprang in  
a fluid motion to an upright position. She ran directly towards a  
wall covered by a large, probably priceless tapestry. Elisa  
realized what she was doing a second later and ran full-speed after  
her. Almost. The damned shoes tripped her and she kicked them  
off, giving Demona a much-needed extra moment to slip behind the  
tapestry into the secret passage beyond.

Elisa followed her into the darkness, suddenly aware of Mulder  
and Scully at her heels, and Bluestone not far behind. She had to  
lose them before sunset, or else there were going to be far too  
many explanations. But there was no more time. She stumbled in  
the dark, and felt a hand on her arm steadying her. She wasn't  
sure who it belonged to, but she was grateful. Demona knew these  
passages by heart, and she only by word of mouth from someone who'd  
once wandered them a thousand years before.

There was a light ahead, and she realized that they were headed  
outside to the courtyard at the top of the castle. In moments, they  
had reached the top of the stairway and were out into the last dregs  
of sunlight of the early evening.

A sound came from the left, and Mulder pulled his gun. The  
elevator door opened, spilling out Xanatos, Fox, Owen, and several  
others. Mulder dropped his weapon, and Elisa heard fleeing  
footsteps hurrying around the corner to the right. She ran towards  
them, knowing too well that the only thing at the other side of the  
building was a ledge overlooking a sheer drop, and fearing that  
Demona knew that too.

Diana's training took over as she surveyed the roof. Elisa  
was running hellbent to a place just out of sight on the other  
side. After seeing the other woman's performance, Diana wasn't  
certain if that hadn't been her intent. She followed, long strides  
quickly bringing her even with Elisa's date.

Elisa slipped around the corner, and she heard a scream  
dopplering into space.

"Elisa!" shouted Bluestone.

The last piece of sun slipped beneath the skyline, and Diana's  
stomach fell with it. She'd known Elisa's family for years; her  
brother Derek had been a good friend, once upon a time.

They sped around the corner, weapons drawn.

Elisa stood at the edge of the building, staring at the dusky  
horizon, as if looking for something.

"Where is she?" asked Diana, already knowing the answer.

"Gone," said Elisa, not looking away from the pink-tinged  
clouds. Then she did something quite unexpected: she said a very  
unladylike word, turned on her heel, and marched away from the  
ledge.

Bluestone placed a concerned hand on her shoulder. "Are you  
all right?" Diana had a sudden sense of deja vu.

She nodded. Mr. and Mrs. Xanatos and their aide came around  
the corner with the guards, saw the five of them, and stopped.  
Elisa's date, who looked oddly familiar, was staring down the side  
of the wall, not even acknowledging their arrival.

"What happened?" demanded Xanatos.

Elisa shrugged, and said cryptically, "The sun went down."

Xanatos sighed, and his wife rolled her eyes. Burnett tightened  
his mouth. Diana felt something pass among the four of them, but  
couldn't capture it.

Elisa's date looked up from the edge of the wall. "You must  
be Mr. and Mrs. Xanatos."

"Actually," said Mrs. Xanatos, "it's just Fox."

The man smiled. "Then we have something in common. My name's  
Fox Mulder. This is my partner, Dana Scully. We're with the  
F.B.I. Maybe one of you can explain how a woman just jumped off  
the side of a building and didn't make a pizza on the sidewalk."  
He looked over the edge again and clarified:

"There's no body."

VVVVV  
Chapter 5: Conversations

Fox tried to remain utterly blank at the news. It wasn't as  
difficult as she'd imagined. Okay. Demona, looking amazingly  
human, shows up at the party. Demona tries to cast a spell on her  
and possibly her baby. Demona is thwarted by the unusual teamwork  
of Elisa Maza and Owen. Demona runs through a passageway known  
heretofore only to herself, David, and Owen. Demona jumps off the  
roof. F.B.I. agent wants to know why there's no body. And it's  
just past sunset. Acting blank was no problem at all under the  
circumstances. In fact, she tried to imagine any other state than  
one of blankness.

It was getting dark quickly.

David's arms were around her, holding her as she sank to the  
much more comfortable ground, and his voice was the heartbeat in  
her ears, calling her name. She wondered idly if the spell had  
worked after all, and decided that she was suddenly very very  
sleepy. She heard from far away the female agent's voice, saying  
that she was a doctor, and Fox had just enough consciousness left  
to think, "But that only happens on t.v."

She opened her eyes and found herself in her own bedroom, with  
David holding her hand. "What happened?"

"You fainted at a very opportune moment." He stroked her  
hair.

She pulled herself up. "Don't be ridiculous. I don't faint!"

"Well, you did this time." She turned her head and saw her  
doctor. "But you're none the worse for wear."

"How long was I out?" she asked her husband.

"About five minutes. I was getting worried."

"Where are our guests?"

"Still in the Great Hall. The two from the F.B.I. are having  
a field day looking for you know who."

"They won't find her."

"I don't care if they find her or not. It's what else they  
might find that worries me." He sighed. "So much for our  
meeting."

"Well, maybe you'll have better luck with our next kid."

"Maybe." He kissed her on the forehead. "Ready to go back  
out?"

She fell back among the pillows. "David!" Uninvited, the  
doctor placed her hand on her stomach, and followed it with a  
somewhat cold stethoscope, the one that David had bought the day  
she'd told him.

"We have most of the people who run this city in our living  
room, and the commissioner won't let any of them leave until she  
finds out who stole our angelic friend's corpse. We have to at  
least put in another appearance."

She sighed. She could get her way with him on a number of  
things, but this wasn't going to be one of them. "Doc?"

"You're both fine." The woman smiled. "Besides, the only  
alternative is to prescribe bed rest." Fox frowned. "I didn't  
think so."

"Okay okay. I suppose someone has to go talk to those agents.  
Whose idea was it to invite Elisa and Bluestone in the first  
place?"

"Yours."

"Right." He helped her up.

VVVVV

"It's good to see you again." Barbara smiled blandly as Lane  
walked away to find another likely candidate for information. Well  
that had been unproductive. She scanned the crowd for Dick, and  
spotted him near the F.B.I. agents, who were currently talking with  
some guy in a wheelchair who looked familiar. Then she placed him:  
Elliot Burch. She'd met him a few times out at social occasions  
with her father, but that had been shortly before his accident.  
Afterwards, she'd felt awkward around him. She knew it was silly,  
that he was the same man as he had been, but at the same time, she  
was afraid that she would say something to embarrass both of them,  
so she'd stayed away. She wondered suddenly how he'd been.

She slid next to Dick and he placed his arm around her, still  
eavesdropping. She bent to his ear, a gesture they had done in  
public many times before. She breathed softly. "Either Lane  
doesn't know what's going on, or she's not talking."

He murmured back. "Burch is trying not to tell these two  
something. I'm beginning to think there might be bats in his  
belfry. Literally."

She brushed her lips against his ear. "You think he might be  
sponsoring another Bat?"

"I'm beginning to wonder. I've been seeing some odd sights on  
patrol. Some have wings."

She nodded; she'd seen the same things. She looked behind  
him. Bruce and Selena were heading for them. "The chaperons are  
back." They pulled away from their half-embrace to meet the wide  
grins.

"I take it you two kids are enjoying the party?" asked Bruce.

"You could. Bruce, can I talk to you a minute?" Dick asked.  
The older man nodded, and they moved aside.

Selena rolled her eyes. "You know, one of these days, they're  
going to realize that standing away from us won't help."

"But not anytime soon. Have you heard from your friend Kit  
lately?" Or in other words, had she found anything out?

Selena nodded. "And she has some interesting news. Did you  
know that our gracious host had in his employ until September a  
geneticist by the name of Anton Sevarius who had a thing for bats?"

"Why no. Do tell."

VVVVV

Elisa nibbled half-heartedly at the broccoli spears. They  
weren't bad with the dip. She had a sudden mental image of Owen  
meticulously arranging the raw veggies on the platter and nearly  
choked. She took a sip of cider and tried to breathe normally.  
Once the Chief realized there was no body to be found, they would  
be free to go, but for now, there was enough food to provide for a  
small African nation, and it was going to waste.

At least Mulder had finally left her alone. His first action upon  
getting back to the Great Hall had been to get a few samples of  
Demona's happy juice while Scully had checked for any other  
secret passages near where they'd last seen her. Then the questions  
had started. He'd demanded to know what she'd seen, and she had  
done what any good, law-abiding citizen would do under the  
circumstances. She'd lied through her teeth.

As far as he knew, the mysterious woman had been gone as Elisa  
had turned the corner, and that was all he was going to get from  
her. She smiled evilly to herself. If he really pressed her,  
she'd tell him the truth: the woman had jumped, turned blue, grown  
wings, and flown off into the sunset to look for her seven-foot-  
tall ex who happened to turn into a pigeon roost during the day.  
In fact, she considered doing it just to see the look on his face.

"Something funny?" She looked up.

"Diana!" The other woman smiled. "How've you been? I  
haven't seen you around the station much."

"I don't hang around the station much. Do you know our  
hosts?"

She frowned. "Far too well. I helped put them both in  
prison. I think they invited me to gloat."

Diana sat down beside her. "If you don't like them, why did  
you protect Fox from that woman?"

She was wondering about that herself. "At the time, it seemed  
like the only thing I could do. All part of the job."

"What do you think happened up there?"

"I'm not entirely sure." It wasn't a lie. "You were there. What do  
you think?"

"Do you honestly want to know?" Her voice was light, but her  
eyes said volumes. Elisa suddenly remembered a story she'd heard  
about Bennett. She'd been given a murder case, and she'd named the  
perp after only seeing the crime scene for a few minutes. She'd  
nabbed him an hour later. The guys gave her a wide berth because  
sometimes she just knew things about people, and not just the  
suspects. In New York, everyone had a secret. Elisa was certainly  
no exception to that rule. But she wanted to know. She nodded.

"I think she knows you, and she doesn't like you personally for some  
reason. Joy thought she was Xanatos' ex-lover, but that's not right.  
That's a different story from the one she's living out. In her story,  
someone has hurt her very deeply, and she's trying to give the hurt  
back to anyone close enough to touch. She thinks that she wants you  
dead."

"I'd say that's pretty obvious."

"She doesn't, though. She just wants you to hurt like she does. I think  
she planned what happened much more completely than she let on.  
Now she has you as a possible suspect for murder."

"What?" This wasn't making any sense, and then, it was.  
"Someone might think I pushed her." Diana nodded.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. Since there's no body,  
it would be next to impossible to prove the case." She had a  
point. "I also think you saw exactly what happened to her."

"I already told you ... "

"You saw," she said quietly, leaving no room for argument,  
"and whatever happened, it has to do with your secret, the one  
you're protecting with your life. Him."

Her heart stopped. Damn! She shouldn't have asked. Playing  
with fire again, eh Maza? Good job. Now you have the pet psychic  
on the staff reading your mind. Why don't you just tell Mulder  
about the guys? He'd certainly be interested. Hell, it's after  
dark, you should invite Goliath to the party. He'd be a hit.

Diana touched her hand, and she nearly jumped. "It's all  
right," she whispered. "I understand." Her wide blue eyes looked  
into Elisa's own, and she knew somewhere deep within that she  
wasn't just making small talk. She understood, because ... Elisa  
had a feeling of vertigo as she watched Diana. In her gaze, she  
saw Goliath as he had been the night she'd met him, but instead of  
being in the air, they'd been in a warm, enclosed space that spoke  
to her senses as far underground. Instinctively, she knew Diana  
was seeing something both similar and vastly different in her own  
eyes.

For an endless moment, the two of them sat in perfect  
comprehension of one another, broken finally by the sound of  
laughter from another guest.

Diana pulled her hand away. "I think we should both start  
mingling so that no one suspects a conspiracy."

The last of the quick spell vanished from her mind like dust  
after a summer storm, and she remarked, "The only ones suspecting  
a conspiracy around here are my partner and my date."

Diana looked behind her and grimaced. "I think Elliot has  
talked your date's ear off enough. I'd better go rescue him." She  
stood up. "It's been nice chatting with you, Maza."

"Likewise, Bennett." She paused. "You do understand, don't  
you?" Diana nodded. "Do you ... do you ever stop seeing ... "  
She couldn't finish; the words weren't right.

"No," she said quietly. "But you learn how to see everything  
else, too." She touched her shoulder, and was gone.

VVVVV

Diana walked to Elliot's side casually, trying to calm the mad  
beating of her heart. She had touched something deep when she'd  
spoken to the other woman, powerful like the motion of the sea. In  
her eyes, she'd seen Vincent holding Jake as a baby, but instead of  
being in the warm closeness of the Tunnels, they had been standing  
on top of an airy place with the wind surrounding them. She'd  
known without asking that Elisa had also seen something, and it  
frightened her.

Before she had met Vincent, her life had been complicated  
enough, balancing her job and Mark and the things she simply  
couldn't say to her sisters anymore. Then Joe had come to her loft  
begging her to take on a murder case, and her life had not been the  
same since.

She made a point of never regretting the past; regrets were  
impractical, and got in the way of moving on with life. She would  
not regret having met Vincent, having found Jake, having killed the  
man who murdered the baby's mother. These were a part of the past.  
Yet, she wondered sometimes, when he was forced to kill someone for  
her sake, or when the fragile secret of the Tunnels seemed to be  
compromised, if she would have been happier not knowing, if she  
could have just married Mark and settled down and raised a couple  
of rugrats.

At those times, the secret was heavy inside her.

Of course, when she was feeling the lowest, when she was  
trapped, confused, wondering where this impossible relationship  
would take her, something else would happen. Vincent would appear  
tapping at her window with a passage from an ancient book to share  
with her, or Jake would out of the blue grace her with that sweet  
grin of his, and she would wonder again how she'd manage to live  
without knowing them.

Before tonight, she'd never dreamed that anyone could have the  
same kind of pressing weight of a promise that must be kept, and  
the new knowledge shook her.

She smiled politely at the F.B.I. agents as she went to Elliot's side.  
"Excuse me." The male agent's eyes widened. In a flash, she  
recognized him. "You're the man from the station this morning."  
That was why he'd looked familiar on the rooftop. He nodded.

"And you are?"

"My sister-in-law," said Elliot. "Diana, meet Agents Fox  
Mulder and Dana Scully. Madam, Sir, Detective Diana Bennett,  
N.Y.P.D."

"Nice to meet you," he said.

"Likewise. So has Elliot bored you to tears yet?"

"Diana! I'm hurt. You don't like my witty conversation?"

"How do you want your answer: honest or polite?"

"How about sunny side up?" The years had brought an ease to  
her relationship with him, something she appreciated as it now  
calmed away her anxieties, leaving her mind clear and focused.  
"The agents are attempting to discover what become of our  
premenstrual friend."

"You were there," said Scully. "Did you see anything at all?"

Diana shook her head. "I got there the same time you did."

Mulder said, "There've been other instances of people  
disappearing in cases like this, although they usually aren't  
jumping off buildings when it happens."

"Maybe she grew wings," said Elliot. He looked askance at his  
chair. "I can't say I'd mind a pair myself." Diana suddenly felt  
a cold flash run through her. Beings large and glorious filled her  
mind, with wings to buffet the air or glide through it like knife  
blades. The stones of the castle had known the brush of such wings  
upon them, and yearned like a flower towards the sun for the return  
of that beauty. She placed her hand on the back of Elliot's chair  
to steady herself.

Scully's eyes grew worried. "Detective?"

"Just a little dizzy for a second. Sorry." She smiled,  
hoping to disarm any more questions.

"That seems to be going around."

"Don't worry. I'm not pregnant." Probably, she added silently,  
and wondered how well that particular possibility would go over if  
she mentioned it to Elliot.

He muttered quietly, "I knew they could make people disappear,  
but this is ridiculous."

"Who?" asked Scully.

Elliot looked up, as if unaware that he'd been talking out loud. For  
a moment, he looked as though he'd been caught, then glanced  
around as if making sure no one would overhear him. He wiggled  
his finger, and the agents bent close. He reached out as if to bring  
them closer still, then touched their ears. He pulled his hands back  
towards himself, holding a quarter in each. "Magicians, of course!"  
he said.

Diana groaned, then looked apologetically at the agents. "He  
does that to me, too." She shot him a look. "Constantly."

"Admit it. You enjoy it."

"Only sometimes. Now if you're finished bothering these two,  
maybe we can let them get back to their investigation."

"Oh, all right. But I finally had someone who hasn't heard  
all my jokes yet."

Scully looked at her partner, and smiled.

He took a small step backwards. "Forget it. You're not  
trading me in."

"Come on," said Diana. "Joy's going to think we're having an  
affair."

"You mean we're not?" She slapped him lightly on the head.  
"But what will we tell the children?"

She sighed again, and said to the agents, "If you change your  
mind about that trade-in ... "

Scully covered a laugh as they moved into a secluded corner,  
no doubt to compare notes.

She placed her hand on Elliot's shoulder as they looked around  
for Joe and Joy. "Nice job," she whispered.

"Thanks. I hope they take the bait."

VVVVV

"He knows," said Mulder, barely concealing his anticipation.

"Knows what?"

"About the Illuminati. About the meeting tonight. Matt was  
right! Notice how he immediately changed the subject?"

"I told him about the Illuminati this morning. He didn't  
want to talk then."

"Maybe he didn't trust his secretary. He was more than  
talkative tonight."

"He's setting us up. Don't you see that?"

"He's giving us information that he can't any other way."

She stopped the urge to sigh heavily. Why couldn't he see? It was  
just like with Manicure Man; Mulder was being told what he wanted  
to hear and he refused to consider that it was all a fabrication.

"Besides, what good would it do to tell us about a society  
that doesn't exist?"

She tried to think. Something about Burch had bothered her  
from the start. He was very intelligent, and his sister-in-law was  
his equal. He wouldn't have said anything he was worried she might  
decipher, so whatever was going on, she was in on it.

"What if he had something or someone to protect? Someone so  
close to him that he would risk putting us on a wild goose chase,  
so that we'd stay away from the real target."

"Do you think Burch is behind the Batman?"

"If he exists, I think it's a real possibility, and I think Bennett knows about it."

"All right. We'll check out Bennett and Burch. But first, I want to ask  
our hosts about our mystery woman. They seem to be the only ones  
who even know her name."

They attempted to do just that. It wasn't as easy as it looked. The couple  
were surrounded by bodyguards, presumably on high alert after the  
incident, and with well-wishers. There was no way to get them alone  
without making a scene. Heaven forbid we make a scene, she thought sourly.

Mulder tapped her shoulder, and nodded towards the buffet,  
where Xanatos' aide was checking the mostly-ignored food. Okay, if  
they couldn't get the hosts, they would get the butler.

"Mr. Burnett?" The man turned. "We have a few questions we'd  
like to ask you."

"I'm afraid you will have to consult with Mr. Xanatos' attorneys."  
Scully mentally banged her head against another wall as Burnett  
turned to leave.

"I'm afraid they won't be of much help to us," said Mulder.  
"We're looking for the perfect cup of tea."

Burnett stared at them. "Excuse me?"

"We've heard from an associate of yours that you have a secret  
blend of tea that is supposed to be something special. We'd like  
to know what it is."

"That's a family secret, I'm afraid."

"Then how about you just tell us the name of the woman who  
tried to kill your boss, and we'll call it even."

"If I knew what name she's hiding under, I'd be more than  
willing to tell you. However, I'm not entirely certain how she got  
in myself. Mr. Xanatos is most displeased." He frowned deeper,  
seemingly more concerned about Xanatos' wrath than the woman.

"I'm having a little trouble placing your accent. Where are  
you from?"

"I've moved around a great deal. Now if you'll excuse me." He  
scooted off into the crowd before they could ask him anything else.

"This is getting old," said Scully.

Mulder agreed. "This city is reminding me more and more of a  
place one of my friends was sent on extended assignment. You ever  
meet Cooper?"

She nodded. "Once or twice. Before I met you, I thought he  
was strange."

"Cute, Scully. Real cute."

(to be continued)


	2. Default Chapter

All Through the Night (2/2)  
a Gargoyles/X-Files/Batman: TAS/Beauty & the Beast/etc crossover  
by Merlin Missy

copyright 1995, 2001

VVVVV  
Chapter 6: Divergences

The Chief finally let the guests leave at ten. Selena  
overheard Veronica Vreeland muttering about being beyond  
fashionably late and allowed herself an evil grin. She had never  
liked Vreeland, not from the first time she'd met her. She was a  
flake, and Selena had no patience whatsoever with flakes.

Funny, she thought, as Alfred pulled the car up. She'd believed the  
same thing of Bruce once. She'd thought him as dim and shallow  
as Ronnie, just another jet-setter out to turn a profit and pretend  
that he had some kind of depth to him. Over time, she'd learned  
better, and discovered the dark, hidden places inside of him that  
matched her own. Together, they had slowly opened those bitter  
spots to the sunlight, and like nightmare mists, they had burned  
away leaving room only for each other.

Alfred, ever the proper gentleman, opened the door for her  
graciously. His eyes moved past her, and she glanced back.  
Burnett was at the doorway, a rare half-smile on his face that  
chilled her more than any scowl ever could. She hurried into the  
car and stared out the opposite window. She knew that Alfred had  
formed an odd friendship with the man, but he worried her in a way  
she couldn't define. Maybe he's a dog person, she thought.

Then a stray image struck her. Their hostess's name was Fox.  
So was the F.B.I. agent's. So they'd had three bats, two foxes,  
and a cat at the party, never mind what the woman had been. Forget  
baby shower, they'd had a bloody zoo! She smiled, and the pale man  
no longer frightened her half so much.

Bruce sat beside her and the kids across. Alfred shut the  
door, opened his own, and got in. "Home, sir?"

Barbara shook her head. "Do you think you could drop me off  
first?"

"Of course, Miss Barbara." He pulled the car smoothly out of the  
driveway. As they left the grounds, Selena caught sight of Burnett  
again, but he was far away now and Bruce was beside her and warm.

She slipped off her shoes. "Oh, that feels much better." She  
closed her eyes for a few seconds.

Dick asked, "Did you guys find anything else out?"

"Not enough," said Bruce, sounding tired. She placed her hand  
on his. Barbara touched the back of her own seat, and a panel came  
open, showing one of the many terminals of the Bat computers. She  
typed something in quickly.

"This is what we have on Sevarius. He got his Ph.D. from  
MIT in '79, Genetics. He worked for the government for ten  
years, then was fired for performing unauthorized experiments.  
He spent some time at Cyberbiotics, but he was working for  
Gen-U-Tech Systems when he was killed in an 'industrial  
accident' in September. This is interesting: Gen-U-Tech is  
owned by David Xanatos."

"Go back to the unauthorized experiments part."

Barbara typed a few more words. "His research was based on  
some weird ideas. He wanted to combine human DNA with that of  
various animals, including bats."

"Great," said Dick. "It's the Manbat all over again."

"Not quite. He had bigger ideas than that. He wanted to have  
major crossovers, putting cats, bats, even eels into the mix. He  
was fired after performing some preliminary tests on human  
subjects."

"And Xanatos hired him." Bruce's eyes grew sad. The abuse of  
wealth and power had always bothered him. She'd seen him chase  
down petty criminals every night, then come home disillusioned  
because he couldn't bring the big money backing them to justice.  
She felt the same way.

Dick said, "If he continued his experiments while working for  
Xanatos, then it's possible some of his creations got loose and are  
responsible for the murders."

"The F.B.I. Agents think that we're responsible somehow,"  
said Selena.

"Then it's up to us to find the killer. Or killers." Bruce's jaw was  
set in a determination she hadn't seen in years. As they began  
mapping out a strategy, she wondered if this were a good thing.

VVVVV

Elisa held the stupid shoes in her hand as she climbed the  
stairs to the clock tower. It had been a long night, longer even  
than the nights she worked, for some reason. Seeing Demona, hell,  
almost being killed by Demona, then having that strange encounter  
with Diana, had put an unease in her heart. She'd picked up her  
car at the hotel where Mulder and Scully were staying, but instead  
of driving home, she'd come here, not really knowing why.

She heard Hudson's voice as she reached the top, and the  
feeling slipped away to be replaced by the warm joy she'd grown  
accustomed to more and more when she thought of the guys.

"'May this day be ... bless sed above all ... others the day  
when you ... ceased to forget my ... exis ... exist ... '"

"'Existence,'" came Lexington's gentle prompting.

"'Existence and came here to tell me ... to tell me ...  
Roxanne who has ... taken off her mask ... ' Bloody hell."

Elisa felt her face pull into a grin. She took the last few  
steps up into the lighted room. "I didn't think that was in the  
play." Hudson and Lexington looked up from their books.

"Hi Elisa," said Broadway, holding his own copy.

"Where are Goliath and Brooklyn?"

"Out on patrol," said Hudson. "We're breaking it into shifts  
so that there aren't so many of us in the sky at once."

"Good idea. Fox and Dana will be going back to Washington on  
Sunday. After that, there shouldn't be a problem."

Broadway looked confused. "Why is Fox going to Washington?"

"Not that Fox. Fox Mulder. One of the F.B.I. agents. He and  
Matt have known each other forever."

"Oh. Okay." He went back to the book, trying to find his  
place.

"What are you reading?"

"'Cyrano de Bergerac,'" said Hudson. "Goliath found it in the  
library a few weeks ago."

"Are you reading or performing it?"

"A little of both," Lex said. "We're reading the parts out of  
order." He looked up at her as if seeing her for the first time.  
"You wanna read Roxanne's part?"

She stretched. She hadn't done drama since that play in the  
second grade where the mice had to put a bell on the cat. She, of  
course, had played the cat. "Sure. Could be fun. Where are you?"

Lex handed her the book. "Right here." He pointed.

She looked at the page, then read out loud: "'First let me thank you  
for humbling that arrogant fop with your sword yesterday, because  
he's the man whom a certain great lord ... '"

The two of them continued the scene, hindered only by Hudson's  
occasional slips. In minutes, she slipped into the part, seeing in  
her mind's eye the old gargoyle as a brilliant Gascon soldier with  
an unfortunately large nose. The words played with them, and she  
could half believe that they were the characters, and that the man  
before her was waiting for her to say the one thing that could make  
his world fill with light. Yet, she knew this particular play, knew  
that Rostand had made a tragic comedy, and that Roxanne would  
never know of Cyrano's love until he lay dying.

"'Tell him to write!'" she said. "'A hundred men! You'll  
tell me about it some other time; I can't stay now. A hundred men!  
What courage!'"

He bowed, on cue from the stage directions. "'Oh I've done  
better since then.'"

Applause came from behind them, and Elisa turned her head.  
Goliath and Brooklyn had returned from patrol, and were watching  
from a short distance. Lexington was clapping and whistling and  
Broadway had a large smile on his face. She turned back to Hudson.

"We're a hit. Maybe we should take it on the road."

"I don't think I could face all that reading." But he had on his cheeks  
a color that in a younger gargoyle would have been called a blush.

"I could," said Broadway, a dreamy look on his face.

"Good," she responded. She handed him Lex's book and patted  
him on the shoulder. "Next time, you play Roxanne."

"Bravo to both of you," said Goliath.

"Yeah," said Hudson, turned an even deeper shade. He thumbed  
open to the last page of the book. "'But what the ... devil was he  
... doing there. Filo ... filoso ... '"

"Philosopher," Goliath provided.

"'Philosopher ... scien tist ... poet ... suwards man ...  
musician ... airiell trav ell er ... ' No wonder you like this  
play; this lad sounds like you!"

Later, she would have sworn that Goliath glanced at her for the  
briefest moment before Brooklyn said, "You kidding? With that  
nose, he probably looked more like me." He patted his own long  
beak.

Lexington added, "Okay, so you play Cyrano to Broadway's  
Roxanne."

Elisa smiled. "I can see that." It felt good to be around them,  
to listen to them. Mulder and Scully couldn't possibly understand  
the guys; they'd probably want to lock them away like Xanatos  
did. Then her face fell as she remembered the night's events. "I  
don't suppose either of you spotted Demona on the prowl tonight?"

"No," said Goliath, obviously disturbed. "Why?"

"She showed up to the party."

"What?!" She had their undivided attention now.

"I think she wanted to do something to Fox and the baby. I'm not  
sure what, but the potion she used dissolved solid rock." And  
almost dissolved me, she thought. No use getting them more  
worried.

"Was she in human form?" Goliath sounded almost fearful.

"Yeah. Unfortunately, she left at sunset. Via the roof."

"Did anyone see her transform?"

"Just me. The others were too far behind, and she was gone before  
they saw anything. Now we have a missing body. They think she  
may have gone through one of the secret passageways, and I hope  
they keep thinking that."

Goliath looked skyward, as if perhaps to see her gliding above  
them. His gaze fixed on a distant star. "If she's ever seen in  
gargoyle form, they won't stop looking for us." She wondered what  
he was feeling. Every night, it seemed more obvious to the rest of  
them that only Demona's death would bring them safety, but that was  
the one option Goliath refused to even contemplate. The pain of  
her betrayal was the one ache that would not heal with the rising  
of the sun, yet he had not the strength to kill the woman to whom  
he'd sworn eternal love once upon a time.

Elisa wished again that his hurt would go away, as she said,  
"They're only going to be here two more days. After that, we don't  
have to worry anymore."

"About them. What about other humans who want to find us?"

"There won't be any others. Matt doesn't even really believe in you,  
and he's seen you. Even Fox and Dana think they're looking for Batman."

"Fox Mulder," said Broadway helpfully. "Not Fox Xanatos."

"Then perhaps we should convince them that this 'Batman'  
really exists. What do you know about him?"

VVVVV

"Come in." Scully opened the door carefully, then realized  
the light was on.

"You couldn't sleep, either?"

"Every time I close my eyes, I keep seeing the woman running  
around the corner with Elisa right after her. I can't see where  
she goes next."

"I know," she said, parking herself in the chair by the bed.

"It's like she was transported out of midair."

"That's 'Star Trek,' Mulder. This is real life."

"Is it?" he asked darkly. "What about this life makes you  
think it's any more real than what you see on t.v.?"

"Well, we're experiencing it, for one thing. I trust my eyes  
and my ears and my reason."

"My eyes saw them both around the corner before my ears heard  
her scream. My reason can't make heads or tails of it."

"Neither can mine," she admitted after a pause.

"Sunset. It all happened at sunset." He sat up. "How did  
you do in your self-defense classes?"

"A. Why?"

"Because we need to go for a walk. This city has a night  
life, and we're missing it."

"I'm not really in the mood to go looking for a club."

"How about a bat?" He began putting on his shoes.

VVVVV

Diana had been waiting for only a few minutes before she heard  
his almost silent tread from the other side of the wall. One set  
of footsteps. She whispered, "Is Jake asleep?"

"Yes," he whispered back. The walls of the culvert took their  
words and reflected them into calm murmurs. "Do you have time to  
come Below?"

"Yes." She heard a click, and the gate slid open on well-oiled  
runners. He stood just beyond the opening, waiting for her  
with the serene majesty of some ancient and awful demigod.

She stepped through and let him shut the gate again before  
embracing him. Contentment crept into her slowly. She'd missed  
him tonight. Joe was a wonderful man, sweet, funny, and very  
handsome in his way, but being near him had never brought the  
warmth that Vincent's presence could. The sound of his voice drove  
away the cold for her, even in the depths of winter. After a long  
time, they moved apart, only their hands remaining in light contact  
as they headed down the familiar trail towards the Tunnels proper.  
"Did you get the note from Elliot about the people from the F.B.I.?"

He nodded. "Kirsten hand delivered it."

"As it turns out, we spent most of the evening with them."

"Why?"

"They went to the party, too. I don't think they were invited; they  
came with two cops I know." She remembered her brief talk with  
Elisa. "Do you know of a Helper named Elisa Maza?"

He closed his eyes, searching his memory. "The name isn't  
familiar, but I could ask Father. Her family might be one of the  
older ones."

She shook her head. "Don't bother him with it. If she were,  
you'd know it."

"Who is she?"

"She's a detective in my precinct. She brought the male  
agent. She may also be the only witness to ... something."

He squeezed her hand comfortingly. "What happened?"

She sighed, wondering where to start. She explained the basics  
quickly. When she got to the part about the disappearing body,  
his eyes grew wide.

"It sounds like magic."

"Or science fiction. That's what bugs me. I have the feeling  
that so much depends on Elisa and this woman, but I don't know  
what. If Elisa's not a Helper, then she's protecting someone else  
the same way a Helper does. And this woman, whoever she is, can  
destroy that. But she won't."

"You're certain?"

"As certain as I am on anything. There is something very evil  
about her, but there's also a great deal of pain. If I had to say  
anything about her, I'd say she lost something and that she'd give  
almost anything to have it back. She mentioned something to Fox  
Xanatos about having as much luck with her mate as she had."

Something caught her. She hadn't said "husband;" she'd said  
"mate." That was important for some reason.

"He's not dead," she whispered. "He's not dead, because she's  
not grieving for him. She's grieving for herself, for losing him."  
She was very far away now, barely feeling his arms settle on hers.  
"And she hates Elisa. Why does she hate Elisa? Because she thinks  
Elisa took him away from her. So Elisa knows who he is and where."  
She met his eyes. "He's the one's she's protecting. That has to  
be it. But why go after Fox Xanatos?"

"She could have just been a ruse to go after Elisa."

"With champagne? It doesn't make sense." She sighed. She  
had seen it in her mind's eye for a brief clear moment, but it fled  
her.

"Narcissa casts spells with water. If she believed that what she  
did would work, and she could make the others believe that it  
would work, then she could have used anything."

"A spell?" She managed a chuckle. "I can believe in a lot of  
things. Magic isn't one of them. Next you'll be telling me that  
fairies ride the subway."

"Why not? It's an excellent way to travel." She saw his  
mouth turn to his best approximation of a smile. She'd ridden the  
top of a subway car with him a total of one time. She'd held tight  
to him as he'd latched on, and she'd seen little but his mane  
flying in the wind and the moths that batted them in the face. The  
next time the subject had come up, she'd chosen to ride inside.

"Maybe," she said. Her mind drifted, and thoughts of the  
evening were placed on a mental shelf to be dealt with later.

"Would you care for some tea before you go back home?" His  
smile had remained, and spoke of more than just a cup of something  
hot and sweet. Jake would be sound asleep by this point, after  
all.

"You read my mind."

VVVVV

Demona landed on top of the Empire State Building and folded  
her wings around her against the cold evening air. Normally, which  
was to say before Puck had cast his damned spell on her, the cold  
didn't phase her in the least. Lately, though, she'd been aware of  
being cold or hot or soaked, even at night. It bothered her; she  
wondered, when she dared to allow herself even consider it, if she  
were becoming more human. The thought disgusted her, but the  
possibility was there, nonetheless.

Idly, she raked her claws on the stone, leaving gashes to  
mystify anyone who came looking. She didn't care much. Let them  
look. Let them see the gashes and wonder, like the people at  
Xanatos' little soiree were wondering: what being was it that  
walked among us and was gone?

She rather hoped that they thought she was dead now. That  
human might even be put into prison for it. She smiled bitterly.  
Let the clan visit her there.

She removed the heavy ring from her finger and inspected it  
critically. The design had been popular centuries ago as a means  
to rid oneself of one's adversaries. A little powder in the right  
glass could work wonders. She doubted somehow that the original  
owner of the ring had ever considered using it to cast a spell,  
albeit a simple one. She could have done better with the Grimorum  
on hand, but this one would have worked just as well. Assuming  
Elisa hadn't been there, that is. She glowered.

At least it hadn't been a total loss. She was fairly certain that a few  
drops of the potion had landed on the human. There would be no  
way to tell at first, of course. This spell took a great deal of that  
patience she was developing. It would have been interesting to see  
work on Fox, she had to admit, but perhaps Elisa would provide an  
even more satisfying subject.

It wasn't a difficult spell, really. Nor was the potion involved harmful  
unless the words were chanted as it was thrown. It would have been  
perfect, for who could trace a stillborn child to a few drops of spilled  
champagne?

She wondered idly from whence the spell had first come. It wasn't out  
of the Grimorum; she'd learned it from the healing-women of the  
mountains, the ones who'd used earth magic to care for their  
charges. She'd spared the life of one in exchange for such spells.  
She had waited three centuries to use this particular one; she  
could wait a little longer to see if it worked.

VVVVV

Fox lay staring into space. The party was finished; most  
everything had been cleared away or put into a place it could stay  
for the night. They had seen the guests out and away, had checked  
the silver to see if anything was missing, had ordered all the  
servants home. Even Owen, whose sleeping patterns (or lack  
thereof) were legendary, had retired to his room, claiming fatigue.

David was snoring softly next to her, in a content slumber  
brought by a long day. Not to mention a delightful session of  
lovemaking, she thought cozily. By all rights, she should be  
asleep too. So why couldn't she?

It was Demona, of course. Somehow, she'd found a way into  
their home, plotting no one knew what. She didn't need to dream to  
have visions of the enchanted potion striking her, causing her to  
miscarry or worse. She knew there was worse, had seen it happen  
once to a friend. She could see her own child being born at full  
term, than carefully placed in her arms. She could see the  
horrible, twisted limbs, the asymmetric face with a plaintive  
little mouth opening and closing in mute agony, and she heard  
Demona laughing in her ears.

She got out of bed. There was no way she could sleep with  
thoughts like these. She slipped her robe on and crept out the  
door as quietly as she could so as to not disturb David. She  
wandered down the hallway, thinking of Katharine again, wondering  
how well she had known the gargoyles, if she'd liked them, if she'd  
feared them. She knew very little of the woman herself, merely a  
few names and dates. She wasn't even certain if she'd had any  
children. All she had were strange dreams of her, and of the man  
who stood beside her calling her "My lady" in a gentle voice.

"Did you?" she asked the silent walls. "Did you find someone  
to cherish? Or did Uncle Kenneth marry you off to some overweight  
landowner who loved your money more than you? Did you even  
protest? Did you run away from him to be your own woman for once,  
to find the man you really loved? Or did you get locked up inside  
some tower to do needlework? I need to know, Katharine."

Her thoughts turned briefly to her own father. He hadn't  
shown, of course. She hadn't expected him to, but still, his  
absence hurt a tiny bit more than she had thought it would. So  
what if he didn't approve of David? The least he could do was come  
for the announcement of his own future grand-something.

She found herself in the kitchen, now filled with the leftovers  
from the party. She poked around in the fridge and dug out a gallon  
of milk. She poured herself a generous glass, then put it back. She  
needed more than milk, though. She nibbled at a piece of cheese  
from one of the innumerable platters, then spotted a plate of cookies.  
Owen left them in a strategic place for David to find during midnight  
raids. He wouldn't mind if she took a few. She grabbed three, perched  
on a stool at one of the counters, and ate her snack in a pool of moonlight.

VVVVV

Scully strolled arm in arm with her partner along Times Square. They  
were keeping an eye out for anything suspicious, which was a harder  
task than they'd first imagined. Everything looked questionable, from  
the man across the street who was looking furtively at his watch then  
at the sky over and again, to the two women walking similarly arm in  
arm with a guide dog leading the way.

A young woman of perhaps eighteen or so passed them. She  
actually made eye contact, which surprised her, and she noticed  
that her eyes were the darkest she'd ever seen. The young woman  
turned her head and spotted the man across the street. Her face  
brightened, and she dashed across to hug the man. Then they both  
stared at his watch.

Strange things happened at two o'clock in the morning, she  
decided.

"The video was shot here," Mulder said, stopping and looking  
around. He seemed disappointed.

"You were expecting gargoyles to be walking along the street  
with us?"

"Not really. I was just hoping that maybe we could find a  
reason for whoever it was to be here. Matt said there was some  
kind of monster over by that fire hydrant, and then another one  
came to stop it."

"Sounds like the Batman to me."

He didn't say anything, instead looking closer at the hydrant.  
"Nothing unusual."

Scully looked around. It was just another city late at night, she  
decided. Except for the number of XXX-rated movies available,  
which she'd noticed Mulder eyeing, they could be in D.C.

"Care for a walk in the park?" he asked suddenly.

"Only if you have your gun on you."

"Done." They ambled towards the direction of Central Park,  
Scully feeling more than vaguely ridiculous. She's heard about  
Central Park after dark. It was rumored to be crawling with  
muggers and various other lowlifes.

Then again, what better place could they have to find a serial  
killer dressed up in a bat costume?

They walked as casually as possible into the park, keeping  
careful watch for anything at all, including homicidal maniacs and  
the like. It was amazingly quiet, and she realized that even  
muggers probably needed sleep. They watched the sky, the trees,  
the bushes, everywhere, as the stars kept watch and a lone cricket  
chirped discontentedly in the cold darkness.

They were in the middle of the park when she felt a sharp tug  
on her arm. Mulder pulled her around behind a tree and pressed his  
hand over her mouth. "Shhh," he whispered. He leaned around the  
tree, and once he removed his hand, she followed suit. He was  
carefully watching a drainage culvert.

Oh boy, she thought. He's lost it. Then she saw movement.  
Two figures stepped out of the culvert and into the moonlight. One  
was tall, well over six feet, and shrouded in a dark cloak. The  
other was much smaller, feminine in aspect, holding his hand. She  
contained a gasp as she recognized her. It was the woman they had  
seen first thing in the morning, now years ago, the same woman they  
had met again at the party, teasing one of the wealthiest men in  
the city, all the while looking so strongly of Mulder's sister to  
make them both afraid. Diana Bennett, she thought.

The larger figure bowed to Diana and a cloud covered the moon.  
When her eyes had adjusted to the light level, both were gone.

"What the hell was that?" she asked, wondering as she said it  
if she really wanted the answer.

"I'm not sure, but I'd be willing to bet we just found our  
Batman."

VVVVV  
Chapter 7: Suspicions

Bruce adjusted his suit one final time. It had been nearly a  
year since he'd last worn it, and it felt odd on his frame. Maybe  
he'd been hitting the cookies too hard lately. Maybe he was just  
getting too old for this. Then it modified itself slightly as he  
moved, and fitted smoothly to his body as it always had.

"Bruce?" Selena was behind him. He turned. She was in her  
pajamas, and looked frightened. She'd probably woken up minutes  
before. "I thought I'd find you here." On second thought, she had  
the look of someone who'd tried to sleep for hours but had failed.

He stopped himself from putting his arms around her to  
reassure her, and instead fiddled with his utility belt. "I have  
to go out on patrol tonight. I have to find out who's committing  
these murders. Otherwise, they'll come with more questions."

"Then let me come with you." She was almost pleading.

"You can't. You know why."

"What will a little harmless dressing up do? You know I can  
stay out of trouble when I try." She placed her palms against his  
shoulders. He took her hands as tenderly as he could and held them  
against his chest.

"Please just stay here for now. I'd feel safer."

"I wouldn't. You haven't been out Batting in ages. A lot of  
the mythos has worn off in your absence."

"And a lot more has developed. I just need to find out what's  
going on. I'll be home soon."

"Will you?" she asked. "Or will he?" She turned and walked  
out of the cave before he could ask her what she meant.

With a curious mix of sadness and almost-forgotten joy, he  
leapt into the Batmobile and started the engine. Like a restless  
lion, it purred beneath his touch. This was what he had lost when  
he'd chosen to give up his double life: this power, this freedom.

Just one more night, he thought as he pulled out. Just one  
more night of living by my wits, of guarding my city, of being at  
one with the night. Just let me have it this once, and I'll give  
it up forever for her. I swear.

VVVVV

Mulder cursed. There was nothing in the culvert but, well,  
culvert. There was nothing to indicate that anything more ordinary  
than drainage had ever taken place there.

"Maybe they just came here to make out," Scully suggested.

"It's now three a.m. and we're in a drain pipe in the middle  
of Central Park. Would you come here to make out?"

"Not if I had a choice, no. But if I were also dating the  
District Attorney of Manhattan, I'd probably want to cover my  
tracks pretty well."

"I don't get it. Why come here to have an affair, unless it's  
with someone she can't trust with anyone else?" He slammed his  
fist against the wall. "Nothing about this case makes any sense!"

She yawned. "It's late. Why don't we go back to the hotel  
and come at this fresh in the morning? Maybe by then we'll have  
had a brilliant insight."

"Maybe," he said, but he allowed her to take his arm and lead  
him out of the park. The walk back to the hotel was silent. It  
was not until he was in his own room that he allowed himself to  
think about what had transpired through the night and try to see a  
pattern. So far, the only pattern he could discern was that  
beautiful redheads in New York were trouble. Of course, that  
didn't include his date for the evening, who was also trouble if in  
a different way. His mind returned to the image he'd had earlier  
in the evening, of the human moths with giant wings, hurtling  
themselves towards self-immolation and immortality, whether it be  
against the giant neon Coke sign in Times Square, or just a bare  
windowpane.

After forever, he slept.

VVVVV

Someone was knocking.

"Yes?" she said, blearily. The knocking came again, and Scully  
woke up enough to realize it wasn't coming from her door but her  
window. She sat up. There was a large shadow at her window.  
She reached to her nightstand, where her gun was safely stored.  
She grabbed it, then carefully approached the window.

There was a man dressed up as a bat staring at her.

She thought briefly that she might still be dreaming, then  
dismissed the idea; her dreams were never this weird. She undid  
the lock and held her gun trained on his as he opened the pane  
enough to let himself inside.

"You won't need that. I won't hurt you."

"I've heard that one before. Are you Batman?"

He nodded. "I need to talk with you, Agent Scully."

"How do you know my name?"

"I know a lot of things. I'll share them with you if you'll  
put the gun down."

"Forget it."

"Suit yourself." He took a seat in her chair. He didn't look half so  
menacing sitting down. In fact, he looked weary, as though it had  
taken him great effort to get there.

"What do you want?"

"First and foremost, I want you to believe that neither I nor  
Catwoman had anything to do with the murders you're investigating."

"I'm supposed to tale your word on this?"

"It's the only one I have."

"Do you know who is responsible?"

"No, but I have some theories I'm working on. I'll let you know if  
I come up with anything."

"Why can't you tell me now?"

"It would seem far-fetched."

"You obviously haven't met my partner. Try me."

"Let's just say that sometimes genetic experiments work out in  
unforseen ways."

"Yours?"

"No!" He looked horrified by the idea. "I'm checking some  
leads right now. That's all I can say."

"Are you involved with the Illuminati?" she asked.

"No, but I know about them. They've been around a long time.  
You and your partner won't bring them down. I've tried. I don't  
suppose it matters much now."

Scully sat in mute disbelief. If this man could be trusted, one of  
Mulder's most cherished theories might actually be proven  
correct. If not, well, she had trusted worse people. At one  
point, she'd even trusted Krycek. She lowered her gun.

Dozens of questions raced through her mind. She should get  
Mulder. He had a doctorate in psychology; he'd know what to ask  
this obviously disturbed man. Or perhaps he wasn't so disturbed  
anymore.

"Why did you quit? Everyone we've asked had nothing but  
praise for you."

"Even Bullock?"

"Except for Bullock." They shared a smile.

He said, "I'm getting old. I can't jump as high or run as  
fast as I used to. About a year ago, I realized there was more to  
life than just catching criminals. This suit doesn't go with a  
family."

She nodded slowly. She could understand that all too well.

"I stopped because I wanted a normal life. Is that too much  
to ask? All I want is to be left alone."

She saw his point, but there was a hole in it. "Then why are  
you helping us?"

He raised his head. "Because despite what I want, I'm still needed  
here. Someone is murdering people in my city, and I intend  
to find out who."

"All right," she said, deciding quickly. "Let me get my partner.  
He'll want to be in on this." She made towards the door, but  
found her path blocked.

"We don't have the time for a chat. We need to find out who's  
been killing these people before anyone else dies."

"You said you had information for me."

"Some. Look into the background of a Dr. Anton Sevarius.  
Then look up his last boss."

She nodded, and turned to the desk to write down the name.  
"How do you spell that?"

No response. She turned back to him, but there was no one  
there. The curtains moved in the slight breeze of the night air,  
and when she went to the window, all she could see was the moon  
keeping a lonely vigil.

VVVVV

Elliot set the phone carefully back into its cradle. There  
was no answer at Diana's loft, which could mean that she'd gone  
Below, or that she was on her roof where she couldn't hear the  
phone, or that she'd been murdered in her sleep. Any of the  
options were possible, and it worried him.

He'd tried to sleep for a while, but soon realized that his  
restlessness would only disturb Joy all night. He'd been puttering  
around with blueprints for the last few hours, fixing the slant of  
this sub-roof, doing some calculations for the room spacing of that  
floor. The work usually filled him with peace. He was doing what  
he loved, what he did best. He was forming a dream-shape from his  
mind and giving it a concrete and steel birth. If only he could  
concentrate.

Instead of visualizing the building to be, he was caught in a  
half-memory. He hadn't seen the woman's fall from the rooftop, but  
Diana had described it to him in detail. The whole idea made him  
uneasy. She'd been backed against a wall, and she'd just jumped.  
No questions, no bargaining, merely silence before a scream.

And the rush of wings.

He'd never been the kind to believe in fairy tales. Reality was more  
than weird enough for his tastes. When things had started falling  
apart six years before, he hadn't imagined that it had been on the  
scale it was. It had taken Cleon Manning to point out to him  
pointedly that there were forces bigger than they could fight working  
against him. And then those forces had killed Manning. To make a point.

The ache touched him again. He'd lost Cathy, then Cleon, then  
very nearly his own life. The last had been his own fault. He'd  
betrayed Vincent's faith in him, when he'd known that he was the  
man's only hope. He had realized that almost too late. He could  
recall those moments as if they had been seared for all time across  
his eyes to mock him: Vincent's simple words of trust, his own  
sudden realization of what the truth was, the sound of a gun's  
safety being clicked off, and the split second when he knew that  
there was someone whose life meant more than his own.

He moved his chair to the window. The sun was slowly edging  
its way over the bit of horizon he could see. He'd watched the  
sunrise that first morning in a cloud of agony, certain he was  
going to die. The bullet had gone through his chest and down,  
shattering his spinal column. He'd been told that weeks later,  
long after everything was over. At first, he'd wished that he  
had died, that he could have had a noble end instead of being  
bound as he was.

Then Diana had introduced him to her sister, who was a nurse.  
She'd been a miracle named Joy, and she'd reminded him of what it  
was to be alive. It had been at sunrise over a year later, the  
morning she'd told him they were going to be parents, that he had  
finally thanked whatever power had taken his legs and given him  
back his soul.

If such people as Joy and E.J. and Diana and Vincent could  
exist in this odd world, then he could believe in angels falling  
from the sky, only to catch themselves on bruised wings one more  
time.

He just wished he knew what Diana was doing at the moment.  
He'd been trying to call her half the night. They needed to plant  
a few more seeds of the Illuminati in the minds of the F.B.I.  
agents, but that wasn't the reason he was calling her now. He  
hadn't been able to sleep for thoughts of her. She had become in  
many ways the closest thing he'd ever had to a sister, and more  
than that, a friend. He'd had none of the former, and far too few  
of the latter. Lately, though, his mind whispered to him that  
something was going to happen to her, that she was going to go away  
like Cathy had and never come back. When he had those waking  
dreams, he needed to hear her voice. He couldn't afford to lose  
any more friends.

VVVVV

"Thank you again for your time," said Mulder as the door  
closed. He checked Robbins' name off his list. It was truly  
amazing; in Matt's supposedly sterling list of witnesses to  
arguably the most important night in the city's history, only three  
had actually seen or heard anything out of the normal weirdness of  
daily life.

This latest witness had heard something strange on the  
television early in the day, but had thought nothing of it. Of the  
other two, one had seen the same program Robbins had described, and  
the other had recalled a brilliant flash in the sky just before the  
city had come back to life.

Other than the apparition on the television, which the other  
witness had assumed was merely a new science fiction show of some  
sort, no one had seen anything resembling a demon or an alien. All  
the other descriptions of the evening's events were just barely  
outside of the normal sphere of events that even Mulder felt  
compelled to disregard them as just more evidence that putting a  
large number of people in a small enough space could make them do  
bizarre things.

Like dress up as a bat, he thought. Scully had wakened him at  
three-thirty that morning to tell him the Batman had visited her  
room. They'd spent the rest of the night calling up everything  
they could discover about Anton Sevarius, and they had found  
enough.

Genetic experiments. Unauthorized tests. Even the government  
had fired the creep. Officially, he'd gone to work for a company  
called Gen-U-Tech. Unofficially, Mulder was willing to bet he  
still worked for the government, only in a much quieter capacity.  
Or at least, that he had worked for them before that unfortunate  
"accident."

Mulder had not been in the least surprised by the discovery that  
Gen-U-Tech was owned by David Xanatos. It was simply one of  
those days.

He thought back to the party for the thousandth time, trying to think  
how it was all connected. Over fifty murders of a similar pattern,  
all on people who for various reasons, couldn't be arrested. A secret  
society with links all over the world. A geneticist with a thing for  
experimenting on humans with cat DNA. A woman jumps to her  
death, leaving no body. A man dressed like a bat to protect the city  
from crime. And hazy photographs of things that could be gargoyles.  
All related to Xanatos' party.

But Sevarius had also experimented on bats. What if his experiments  
had succeeded? A woman who could fly would have no fear of  
falling, and might be mistaken for a gargoyle. She might also hold  
a big grudge against the man who supposedly funded the project, not  
realizing that the Illuminati had pulled the strings all along. And she'd  
still be alive.

Alive. Oh damn. On the rooftop, there had been four people  
unsurprised by the lack of a cadaver. Burnett had said that he  
would've given them the name "that she's hiding under." Present  
tense. Why? Because he knew she hadn't been killed at all.

That was it! If he could find her, he would have the killer, the project,  
and the Illuminati all in one. The only problem was figuring out where  
she'd be.

He hoped Scully was having better luck.

VVVVV

Scully looked around the empty lab and hoped that Mulder was  
having better luck than she was. Whatever evidence she might have  
found in Sevarius' lab had long ago been examined by the police or  
destroyed by the company. The lab itself was still being used for  
basic genetic research; a tiger lounged behind an unbreakable glass  
wall, while some almost harmless-looking fish swam mindlessly to  
and fro in a tank on one wall. However, all traces of Sevarius'  
particular research had been eradicated from the room.

She berated herself. What had she been expecting? Giant  
winged monsters, perhaps, with cat heads and human souls? She  
attempted to conjure up a proper mental image, but could only see  
again the fuzzy shapes in Matt's video clip. Besides, it wasn't as  
if they would have let her in if there had actually been anything  
left to find.

Her inquiries that morning had been almost as useless. Matt's  
list had simply not panned out the way he'd claimed. She supposed  
she should have expected it; working with Mulder had inured her to  
getting leads that were no more than pipe dreams.

She noticed a smaller cage in one corner of the room, and out  
of curiosity, checked to see what was inside. A part of her was  
still perversely hoping for some genetic creation of a dream or  
nightmare.

Instead of a monstrous mutation from the pits of hell, she saw  
two very ordinary white lab mice. One was long and thin, the other  
squat with an oversized head. She smiled at them, trying to brush  
off the feeling that they were staring at her. Mice didn't stare.

She sighed. There was nothing here. If she was going to  
discover anything, she was going to have to speak with Xanatos  
himself. She turned off the light and closed the door behind her.

A sound very much like "Narf" could have been heard from the  
corner, had anyone been there to listen.

VVVVV

Diana leaned over the edge of her roof gazing down to the  
street below. From her vantage point, the people scurrying along  
were barely the size of large insects. She held a pebble in her  
hand, testing its weight with her touch. 32.1 feet per second  
squared, she thought, assuming no drag. She'd gone through her old  
college physics book to make certain of the acceleration, and she'd  
looked up the equation relating distance to acceleration to time.  
A pebble dropped from the top of her own building would take a  
little over two seconds to impact with the ground. That same  
pebble dropped from the top of Xanatos' tower would take quite a  
bit more time, certainly not a full minute, but enough time for  
something to happen.

Something, she thought wearily. The attempt to determine that  
elusive something had kept her up the rest of the night after  
leaving Vincent. The woman had had several seconds of drop time to  
do something and she'd known it. She'd planned on it. Why?

Why would someone crash a party to throw her drink on her  
hostess and jump off a skyscraper? It was a horribly melodramatic  
ploy for attention, something she'd expect out of a soap opera, or  
a gothic novel. Of the partygoers she'd overheard, most were  
speculating that she'd had a thing with Xanatos at one point and  
that he'd dropped her. A few had mentioned in much quieter  
whispers that Elisa Maza had been seen a great deal around the  
castle in the past year, and that maybe she had been the one for  
whom the woman had been dumped, and not Fox. If the rumor grew, it  
might even turn into a proper scandal in the upper echelons of New  
York society.

Diana felt the pebble's slight weight. If she dropped it to the rooftop,  
it would barely make a click as it touched down. If she dropped it  
off her building, she might hurt someone. If she dropped it from  
the Eyrie Building, she'd kill the person below. She closed her palm.

That's what she had intended, at least in part. She wanted to start a  
scandal to hit Xanatos where it might actually touch him, make him  
feel the hurt. By implicating Elisa, she could bring down the detective  
with him. She might even start hints of a murder and a coverup by the  
two of them, and that would serve her purposes just fine.

Diana dropped the stone, then caught it just before it hit the  
roof. She would have found a way to not have fallen. She would  
have wanted to see her handiwork, and death would prevent that, for  
obvious reasons. The woman was still alive and gloating.

In her mind, she was again in the airy place she'd seen the  
night before in Elisa's eyes. Flight, she thought. They can fly.  
That's the secret. She dropped the pebble without even noticing  
it. That's why she knew that she could jump and would be safe,  
because she's one of them, whatever they are. Elisa knows it.

Her thoughts raced to the moment frozen in time when she'd  
stood at the top of the castle, looking down. Elisa hadn't said  
that she'd died. She'd said, "She's gone," and that the sun had  
set. Three other people on the castle roof had understood  
precisely what she had meant.

VVVVV

Selena sat back from the terminal and yawned. She'd been there  
since Bruce had left, and she'd found a number of things both  
interesting and disturbing. Yes, Gen-U-Tech was owned by Xanatos.  
Yes, he had been present at the accident that had killed Sevarius.  
No, the body was not available, as it had been cremated as per the  
wishes of the deceased. Yes, Gen-U-Tech had been investigated  
recently for reported mistreatment of animals. That last part had  
made her blood boil.

Dick had stayed home from the office to help with the search,  
and between them, they'd managed to get at some of the less secure  
files from the corporation. What they had discovered had been  
appalling. There were expenditures in the tens of thousands for  
guards and weapons. It was as if Sevarius had been funding his own  
private army, but to protect what they could not even speculate.  
Unless ...

His ultimate goal had been to create the perfect mixture of  
human intelligence and the finest qualities he saw in animals,  
including flight and feline grace and instinct. He'd need an  
army to stop one of his creations, were it to get loose.

She shuddered involuntarily. Once, she'd been transformed to  
a madman's idea of perfection. She hadn't been given wings, but  
she'd been turned into a humanoid cat. If Sevarius had even  
thought of doing that to someone else ...

The pain in her palms convinced her to release her fists, and  
she noted the bloodstains on her nails. 'Not all the perfumes of  
Arabia can sweeten this little hand,' she thought, and grimaced.

A purring sound and pressure at her feet brought her attention  
level down to the floor. Isis was politely demanding attention.  
She reached down and pulled the cat into her lap, then smoothed the  
silky black fur as her legs were kneaded for comfort. Then the  
weight settled on her and batted idly at her hand as if to remind  
her about the petting.

"Get tired of chasing mice that aren't there, sweetheart?" She ran  
her nails down the cat's back and was rewarded with a delighted  
stiffening of tail. Truth be told, Isis would probably run from a  
mouse if she saw one now. Alfred had taken to giving her scraps  
of meat every day in addition to her regular food. It wasn't good  
for her, but she had a way of asking that he simply couldn't resist.  
Selena felt her ribs, noticing how much padding had been added  
since they'd moved into Wayne Manor. Isis was growing soft, and  
a little lazy.

She took a sip of the tea Alfred had brought her. It was no  
longer hot, but it was still sweet, just as she liked it. She'd also  
grown contented beneath his and Bruce's care, until the cat inside  
had supposedly curled up and gone to sleep. It was fortunate for  
her, since she was forbidden to wear her cat suit; she'd be put into  
prison, and she'd lose Bruce's trust forever.

But these were animals being hurt, and people as well, and she  
couldn't allow that to continue when she knew exactly where to find  
the man responsible, if not for the project, at least the funding  
behind it. David Xanatos.

VVVVV

This was going to be ridiculously easy, thought Elisa, as she  
sat down on her bed. She laughed, then felt mean for having  
laughed. A few questions here, an old newspaper article there, and  
they had the keys for making a very lifelike Batman appear in front  
of Fox and Dana. Finding the floodlight in the storage room had  
been a wild piece of luck. Everyone knew that the Batman would  
appear when summoned by the sign he'd given Commissioner Gordon.  
And if he didn't appear, well, there were five Gargoyles who were  
prepared to make certain the F.B.I. agents think that he had.

The hard part, for her, had been raiding Derek's closets  
looking for dark clothing to work the illusion. Of course she had  
the key to his place, just as he did for hers, but she'd never  
thought that she'd have to use it to take his clothes.

Not that he'd ever wear them again.

With a firm effort, she stopped herself from crying. Tears  
wouldn't do either of them any good. She couldn't save him from  
what he had become, but maybe if she could protect her other  
friends a little while longer, they could find a way to help him  
come home. If that involved getting thousand-year-old stone  
statues to dress up in her brother's dark sweaters and go flying  
around town in ski masks, then that was what she was going to do.

She needed to get some sleep; tonight was going to be very  
busy. She changed quickly, pulled the shades down tight to block  
the sun, and slipped into her awaiting covers.

She closed her eyes and let herself dream.

VVVVV

Something in her shoulderblades itched, and no matter how she  
twisted, turned or slid, Fox couldn't get rid of the feeling.  
There were spiders under her skin, crawling around searching for  
something. She'd never considered herself particularly prone to  
psychic flashes, but there were rare times when she just knew  
things that she shouldn't. Now was one of those times.

Something big was coming, and quickly. She didn't know who or  
what; merely that something touching her life was about to change,  
perhaps dramatically. Something she cherished was in danger.

She placed a protective hand over her abdomen. Demona's  
attempted spell hadn't touched her, but there were a thousand  
things that could go wrong before the kid was even born. Magic was  
just one more complication.

No, she decided. For the time being, the baby was safe. It  
was something else, close to her but far enough to be concealed.

She hated feelings like this.

She hit the punching bag one more time for good measure,  
letting the impact soothe her nerves. Yes, that was it. She just  
hadn't gotten enough of a workout these past few days and it was  
building up as nervous energy. All she needed were a few rounds  
with an Evil Ninja or five and she'd be back in form and ready for  
action.

The thought brought a grin to her face, as she considered trying to  
kick Evil Ninja butt in her ninth month. She probably would be  
able to do it, too. She twisted and gave the bag a side kick, knocking  
it off the ceiling. She frowned. A year ago, she could have kicked it  
into the next room.

Getting soft, she thought. The itchy feeling was still there, but she  
could ignore it now and concentrate on getting her kicks right. Almost.

There was a flash out of the corner of her eye. Demona!

She spun, already in a fighting stance. And saw nothing. She  
relaxed minutely. Her mind was playing tricks on her, dirty ones.  
Again. When she'd finally fallen asleep after almost two hours of  
reading, she'd dreamt of the party. In her dream, Elisa had been  
a step too slow, and Owen too far away to help. The potion had  
landed on her face, and she'd felt the skin peeling away as her  
baby wailed from inside her. She'd woken up crying and it had taken  
David nearly an hour to convince her that it was only a nightmare.

Whatever she'd just seen was merely a product of too little  
sleep and her overworked imagination, she reasoned with herself.  
No one was here but she.

She sighed and turned back around. There was someone standing  
in the doorway, and her body went into attack mode, which stopped  
milliseconds later when she realized it was only Owen. Of course  
it was Owen. Why wouldn't it have been Owen? Yet, when she'd  
seen him, her mind had provided another name first.

"How long have you been there?"

"Five seconds." Yep. It was Owen. "Agent Scully is here to see  
you." Her mind went blank. Scully? "From the F.B.I. She was  
at the party last night." She ran through a list of faces until she  
came up with one. Oh yes. She'd been on the roof when Demona  
had taken her swan dive.

"Thanks. I'll be there in a minute." He nodded and went out. She  
grabbed a towel and dried the sweat she had worked up from her,  
leaving her skin clammy. That was the one thing she disliked about  
living in a castle; she was rarely warm enough. Yet another thing  
they'd have to work on before the baby arrived, she thought as she  
left the gym/dojo. That and a name.

A shadow against the far wall moved briefly and was still  
again, but she didn't see it.

VVVVV  
Chapter 8: Disclosures

Selena let a long breath out. She was certain Fox had spotted  
her. Getting caught right now would be the worst thing she could  
imagine happening. She'd lose everything she held dear. Almost.  
She'd have finally regained that piece of herself that she'd been  
denying since her arrest. She hoped it would be worth it.

She slipped through the shadows, out the door, and into a  
crossways --- where to go? She chose the less lighted passage,  
reasoning that there was less of a chance to run into anyone before  
she found what she needed.

She wasn't quite sure what that was, though.

Barbara had located a reference to the castle from an architectural  
magazine the year before, and it had included a very basic layout  
of the whole thing. She'd brought a copy, but it only told her what  
sized rooms she would find, not for what they were used. It wasn't  
as if the doors would be labeled "Master Bathroom" and "Top Secret  
Genetics Laboratory" anyway.

She heard voices and went flat against the wall. Wherever she  
was, it was the wrong place.

"I'm afraid I don't know her name," Fox was saying to someone.  
"Everything happened so fast."

"But you recognized her," said another female voice. Selena  
couldn't place it. "When she wished you the same luck with your  
husband that she had, you insinuated that she'd lost hers."

"I was guessing. What was I supposed to say?"

"She also talked about going over old times."

"Then she jumped off the roof. I don't know why she did that,  
either."

"The woman tried to kill you. I'd think you would at least  
want us to find her."

"Then go scrape the sidewalk. She's not in here. I can  
guarantee you that."

"One more question: if you don't know her, and your husband  
either didn't know her or if he did, he obviously didn't want her  
there, how did she get in with all the security?"

There was a pause, and Selena imagined Fox glancing  
significantly at Burnett as she said, "I'm wondering about that  
myself."

Selena sighed. Fox wasn't going to tell anything; she had no  
reason to listen. She moved back down the hallway and took a  
different turn. This part of the castle had been refurbished  
recently, she noticed. She passed an open doorway and peered in,  
only to find what appeared to be the Master Bedroom. Bingo.

She went first to the bed, as it defined the room: large, four  
postered, done in red crepe. Gorgeous, she thought, but overdone.  
However, she wasn't here to admire the decor. She looked over the  
nightstands critically, then went to the one closer to the window.  
There was a book with the dust jacket marking a page, and she  
carefully turned it over: "The Kings of Scotland." She opened to  
the marked page, which was the end of a chapter. The next chapter  
was on King Duncan, but the reader hadn't gotten that far yet. She  
closed the book.

Next, she opened the top drawer of the stand. There were a  
few more books, most on philosophy, a notebook, and a small black  
velvet bag tucked discretely in the corner. In it, she found a  
tiny antique gold charm in the shape of a fairy. The notebook  
looked new. She opened to a page and read a few cryptic notes:  
"11-9-95. K again w/ Him, bth in N. twr, reading. 11-10-95.  
Home. Running up the hill to house. Fire everywhere. Mom." This  
was either bad poetry or a dream notebook. She placed it back  
where it belonged.

The bottom drawer slid open easily, and Selena needed only a  
glance to realize there were a lot of things about this particular  
couple she would be just as happy not knowing. Nutella??? She  
risked another peek, wondering if Bruce would ... She closed the  
drawer quickly. Anyway ...

She inspected the other bedside stand. Other than an alarm clock  
and a lamp, the surface was bare. She opened the top drawer,  
and found a short stack of papers. Account forms. She flipped  
through them, only to find routine expenses. Mostly. One sheet  
mentioned a large statue, dated just a few weeks before. But she  
couldn't get a man arrested for having a statue carved.

She checked the bottom drawer, not really expecting anything.  
She found another notebook, much like the other one, and sighed.  
Idly, she opened it to the last page written on. There was a half-  
finished letter, dated the day before, and intended for one or the  
other's father. Selena read it over quickly, and her eyes grew  
wide at the last part written: "You do remember the Maid of Honor,  
I believe. It seems she now has a human side to her. She showed  
up and almost ruined the whole thing."

There was no more to it thus far, but now she had a lead. She  
put the notebook back carefully and set everything to look as it  
had when she'd come in.

She heard footsteps and instinctively dove under the bed. She  
watched a woman's bare feet come into view and tried not to breathe  
too loudly. It had to be Fox. She saw the feet move closer, then  
stop. The bed lowered, and Selena crouched beneath the weight.  
Fox shifted around on it, then got up. Selena peeked out just  
enough to see the feet go back out the door. After a minute, she  
got out from under the bed and glanced at the nightstands. The  
book on Scottish kings was gone.

Her luck was going to run out soon, she realized. She checked  
the window to see if it opened. It did. She slipped out and  
closed it behind her, then began the laborious process of climbing  
down.

"Psst." She nearly lost her handhold. She looked up to see  
a face in a mask above her.

"Please don't do that when I'm on the side of a building."

Barbara smiled. "I thought you were prepared for anything."

"You thought wrong. Did you get it?"

Barbara slid down the cable to an even level, then patted a  
pocket of her cape. "One guest list on film. What did you find  
out?"

"Only that Bachelorette Number One was the Maid of Honor at  
their wedding."

"Fascinating. Maybe that'll help the cross-referencing."

Together, they crept down the castle wall.

VVVVV

In odd parallel to the night before, Burnett met her in the lobby, where  
she waited in less than perfect patience beside the front desk Diana  
showed him her badge.

"Detective Bennett, N.Y.P.D. I need to speak with Mr. and  
Mrs. Xanatos."

"I'm afraid now is not a good time. Mr. Xanatos is unavailable,  
and Mrs. Xanatos is feeling under the weather." His mouth turned,  
and Diana had the strangest impression that the man considered  
the impending arrival a personal affront of some sort.

"I don't care if it's not a good time. I'm investigating a  
homicide."

"If you are referring to the events last evening, Agents Scully and  
Mulder of the F.B.I. have already interviewed Mr. and Mrs. Xanatos."

Damn. There went her cover story. She looked past him for a  
moment, trying to think. Then her other sense went haywire.

She'd been among a large crowd the evening before, and the  
sensations she'd picked up on had been more from the castle itself.  
However, the castle was far above them, and he was the only person  
around, and she was suddenly drowning.

Everything about him was wrong, from the way he blinked his  
eyes to the tilt of his head to the half-accent of his voice. He  
reminded her suddenly and strongly of someone, but she couldn't say  
why or even who, only that she was getting very strange feelings  
from him. He was more and less than human, and the otherness  
scared her deeply.

"Thank you," she mumbled, and turned blindly towards the glass  
doors, her mind on fire. He returned to the elevator without a word  
and she was alone with her imagination. Alone, her mind whispered,  
he is totally, utterly alone. That's what you're sensing. He is more  
alone than anyone you've ever met, save perhaps one, alone and  
terrible in what he believes himself to be. Her mind reeled with  
implications, and she felt the world spinning.

She leaned against the wall of the building, wondering what  
was happening to her.

VVVVV

Scully watched Bennett from a short distance, wondering. She had seen  
the other woman through the glass front of the building, speaking with  
Burnett for a minute. She had stumbled out, then wandered down  
the block a few paces, looking distinctly ill. What had Burnett  
told her?

Bennett was involved with this, whatever it was. She was  
certain of it. She'd seen her talking with Maza at the party, and  
now she was showing up at Xanatos' doorstep. Add to that a very  
tall boyfriend in a cloak that could be taken for wings, and one  
might go in some intriguing ways.

There was no way Sevarius' project could have worked. Genius  
or not, the technology simply wasn't available to create human-  
animal hybrids on the level suspected by Mulder and Batman. The  
hybrids weren't necessarily the murderers, anyway. The first  
killing had taken place in the 70's.

What if the Illuminati were involved? She allowed herself  
to speculate for a moment. Assuming the society existed, they  
could have funded all the killings by a single hitman, and made it  
look like an animal. But suppose their hitman got tired, as Batman  
was growing tired? What if he'd met Bennett and realized that he  
wanted more from life than killing? They'd need a new hired gun,  
someone to perpetuate the myth. They might even be secretly  
backing Xanatos to pay for Sevarius' work. If the strange woman  
had been the wife of the hitman, she could blame Xanatos as part of  
the reason her husband had left her. The mysterious night that no  
one could remember might even be from an experiment gone awry.

She shook her head. This was nonsense. There were no secret  
societies or gargoyle-creatures. Sevarius was dead, and a woman  
was missing, and Bennett was just seeing someone behind Maxwell's  
back. And a man in a bat costume was having a midlife crisis.

"I hate this city," she muttered under her breath.

She crossed the street back to where Bennett was leaning  
against the wall. "Are you feeling all right?"

"No, but thanks." She smiled up at her. "Agent Scully,  
right?"

She nodded. "Detective Bennett, I presume?" A return nod.  
"We keep running into each other."

"In this case, it's a good thing." She pulled herself upright.  
"I'm investigating what happened last night. Burnett said that  
you've already talked to Mr. and Mrs. X."

"Just with her. He wasn't available."

"Did she tell you anything useful?"

Scully shook her head. "She claims that she doesn't know who the  
woman was, or why she said what she did or even why she jumped  
off the building."

"She's lying." Scully shot her a patented I-Knew-That-I'm-Not-An-  
Idiot look. She watched the other woman's face carefully. The only  
thing she read was weariness. She hadn't slept the night before either,  
it appeared.

"What do you think happened?" asked Scully, suddenly curious.

"I don't know." She shrugged. "Sometimes I get impressions of what  
might be going on, but for now, nothing." Now you're the one who's  
lying, thought Scully.

"Do you want to get a cab together? You look awfully pale."

She smiled. "That actually sounds like a very good idea." Maybe she  
could get something out of her on the ride back to the hotel. It never  
hurt to try.

VVVVV

He watched them carefully from a third story window. He couldn't make  
out the words, of course, and that only made him more concerned. Events  
were closing in around him too quickly, and he hated that. He didn't have  
time to plan things out properly, merely to act on instinct, which had gotten  
him into this mess in the first place.

If only Demona hadn't shown up the night before, things would  
have been so much simpler. The F.B.I. agents would have looked  
around, made notes, found nothing, and gone back to Washington with  
no more real information than whenthey'd come. Oh, they would have  
heard carefully-planted stories about the Batman, seen a few traces  
of the gargoyles here and there, even suspected the existence of  
the Illuminati, but they'd have nothing more than clouds to chase.

Then that she-devil had come, with her jealousy and her spells  
and her millennium-old hatred, and nearly ruined everything. What  
had she been thinking with her little stunt at sunset? Had she  
wanted to be discovered? It had been insane, and therefore  
perhaps perfectly keeping in character for her, but he'd thought  
her more intelligent than that. Then again, perhaps she was. The  
whole thing reflected badly on them all, and could lead to some  
socially inconvenient speculations. It had also opened up the  
agents to the possibility of the other gargoyles, which could  
result in their capture. That would go distinctly against the  
plans he had for them.

The worst part was how the event had brought everyone in such  
close proximity. The party itself would have only made for more  
confusion on the parts of the agents, but now it appeared that it  
had also allowed them to make powerful friends. Agent Scully might  
as well have said that she knew about Sevarius, though probably not  
nearly as much as she thought. He'd listened to her from another  
room, utilizing the video hookup. Fox probably wouldn't be pleased  
to know that, but then again, he had no intention of telling her.

Now it appeared that Agent Scully was becoming friendly with  
Detective Bennett, another loose thread really needing tying. Or  
snipping. Detective Maza wouldn't be a problem; she had her own  
secrets to keep, which for once, coincided with theirs. Bennett  
had similar secrets, and would be as loathe to part with them, but  
what she might let slip on things she only guessed about bothered  
him. She knew a large number of things she shouldn't, but he  
hadn't wanted her killed yet. She was far too useful to him alive  
and unknowingly working on one of his projects.

The question was, of the projects, which one could he afford  
to sacrifice?

VVVVV

Mulder looked at the stylized "M" on the gate and sighed. This was  
crazy. He'd only barely seen where the car had turned the day before.  
She could be in any of these houses. But she wasn't. This was the  
place the limo had turned, carrying a woman with eyes that could  
never be mistaken for human. If she were alive, she'd be here, or she'd  
have left some clue here as to where she'd gone. Breaking and entering  
would look terrible on his record, but he needed in that house.

Batman's nocturnal visit had raised too many questions for him. Why  
did he feel the need to do what he did every night, and why had he  
stopped? Mulder would have given his teeth to have been there. He'd  
spoken of growing older, of wanting a family. Now, someone could be  
framing him for murder, possibly even his former employer, whoever that  
was.

David Xanatos could have funded Batman. Diana Bennett appeared to  
be dating Batman. If abovesaid Batman had broken up with Catwoman  
aka Selena Kyle, he might also have dumped another girlfriend who  
didn't have a billionaire boyfriend to help her pick up the pieces. In  
fact, the Batman could be the mate of whom the woman had spoken. It  
was as plausible a theory as any he'd heard thus far, and only had one  
problem: where did Elisa fit in?

He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to the last question.  
Everything was so close to making sense, and he knew that it would  
come together if he could get into this mansion.

The gate was tightly locked, but there had to be a way in, or the woman  
would not have had a way out. He checked for an electronic release,  
and found one. Great. Now he just needed to find the code, which  
could be one of a billion, and he'd be inside. This wasn't working well.

At least the street was empty. Rich people didn't seem to take many  
walks on Saturdays, at least in their own neighborhoods. He made a  
mental bet with himself that he could climb the fence before anyone  
even noticed he was there.

One. Two. Three! He boosted himself up, scrabbling for a hold and  
belatedly hoping there wouldn't be an electric current flowing through  
the bars at the top of the wall. Slowly, somewhat painfully, he hoisted  
himself over the edge and dropped to the ground.

Okay, so now he was officially breaking the law. He could  
deal with that. He made his way quickly to the house. The  
limousine was nowhere to be seen, which was good. The front door  
had another electronic lock on it. He checked a window, wondering  
if there would be an alarm. Nothing! This woman lived in New York  
City in a near-fortress and didn't have bars on the windows or an  
alarm system? Was she crazy?

He thought again to her jump, and scratched that question. He  
jimmied open the window and slipped inside. He found himself in a  
dim hallway. The surrounding evergreens blocked most of the light  
from the outside, leaving the house tomblike in its still darkness.

He found what appeared to be a parlour. The couch was covered  
in a dusty white sheet, and a box made for an interesting coffee  
table. For someone rich enough to own this place, the woman had  
lousy taste in decorating. A small pile of mail was set on the  
box, and he poked through it. Most was addressed to Resident, but  
one wasn't. It was an electric bill, very ordinary in form. It  
had been opened, and the papers shoved back into it, so that the  
name was no longer in the window. He picked up the envelope.

"Isn't reading someone else's mail illegal?" came a voice from  
behind him. He set it down again and turned deliberately to face  
a dead woman.

VVVVV

She'd been catching a quick nap when she'd heard the intruder.  
In the instant she'd spent between waking and dreaming, she was  
certain that somehow, Hakon had found her where she'd hidden from  
the barbarians and was about to smash her to rubble. Then she'd  
opened her eyes and realized that Hakon had been dead a thousand  
years and that she could never be turned to stone again.

She'd slipped out of her sleeping nook and crept behind this  
stranger in her house, almost amused now that she was fully awake  
and alert. A presumptuous human had invaded her castle, and he  
would pay for it with his life. However, like a cat with a mouse  
in her paws' reach, she wanted to play with him first.

"Agent Fox Mulder of the F.B.I." He flashed her a piece of plastic  
that he obviously thought was important. She knew what the F.B.I.  
was. She simply didn't care.

"Thank you. Now I know what name to give to the police when  
they arrest you for breaking into my home."

"I don't think you want to contact the police, he countered. "Last  
night, you were ready to spill everything rather than go."

She peered at him carefully. So this was one of the twits  
Xanatos had invited to his party. All the better. She had  
difficulty imagining Xanatos hobnobbing with Federal Agents,  
though.

"What do you want?" She might as well at least hear what the  
imbecile had to say.

"I want to ask you some questions. For starters, how did you  
survive jumping off a hundred-story building?"

"How do you think? I grew wings and flew." She smirked. Ask a  
stupid question ...

"I believe you." That was unusual. "I want to know how."

She stood motionless, shocked. He wasn't supposed to believe  
her. He was supposed to grow angry with her so that he would  
foolishly try to attack, and then she could kill him. Hmm ...  
This could prove interesting. She wondered how far his belief  
would go.

"Actually," she started, "it's a very long story." She tensed  
herself, preparing to strike.

"Does it have anything to do with the Illuminati?"

She looked at him askance. "Who?" His face fell, and she  
leapt at him.

He ducked only partially out of the way before she was atop him.  
She smiled maliciously. She knew how easily humans died, and  
killing this one would brighten up her mood considerably. She felt  
him reaching for his gun and shifted her weight to pin his hand.

She was slightly off-balance now and he used it to push her  
away and get to a half-crouched position. She kicked out at him,  
sending him sprawling again before he could stand, then grabbed a  
heavy silver candelabra from the mantle, meaning to spread his grey  
matter on the floor.

A singing sound filled her ears, and a tongue of fire licked at her  
wrist. She dropped the candle holder and spun. A woman in a cat  
outfit held her arm with a whip, while another woman, this one  
dressed as a bat, held a vicious-looking weapon at her.

"I'd really suggest you quit fighting," said the Batgirl. She  
glanced at Mulder. "Are you okay?"

He nodded and got to his feet.

"Then maybe you can explain what's going on," said Catwoman.  
Demona readied herself for one more attack; if she couldn't escape,  
she was going to take these humans with her.

She grabbed the whip with her bound hand and tugged with all  
her strength, pulling it free from Catwoman and into her own  
waiting hand. She managed to spin halfway around before she felt  
the blast from Batgirl's weapon. She faltered, then pulled herself  
upright again.

"You'll have to do better than that, girl." The blast came  
again, and her eyes went unfocused. She hated sleep. It was one  
of those things that this new body needed in daily doses, and it  
annoyed her to no end. She resisted the heavy weight on her  
eyelids, knowing that there was no resistance, that she was falling  
again, as too many many times before ...

VVVVV  
All Through the Night  
a Gargoyles/X-Files/Batman:TAS/Beauty & the Beast/etc crossover  
by Melissa "Merlin Missy" Wilson

copyright 1995

Chapter 9: Accusations

She sat quietly in the corner of the jail cell rereading the graffiti on the  
wall. For some reason, her eyes kept going back to one name: Cool  
"Disco" Dan. She wasn't sure why. She wondered what he'd been  
like, how long ago he'd been there, why he'd been put in the lockup. It  
was better than considering other things.

Sometimes, her life had seemed as though it were a story, and  
that at the end of it, if she persevered, she'd find her "happily  
ever after" waiting for her. Instead, she'd found graffiti on the  
wall and unsympathetic eyes around her.

A few of her cellmates whispered and pointed at her. She idly  
clawed her fingers at them, and they moved away. Being known as  
the Catwoman had some advantages, she thought tiredly. Being in  
here wasn't one of them.

It had all seemed so clear. They had checked the guest list,  
checking off everyone they already knew. Between them, they could  
eliminate ninety-five percent of the guests, and a few educated  
guesses later, they had come knocking at Angelica MacAlpin's door,  
hoping for answers.

Barbara had left them shortly before they'd reached the police  
station, which had seemed like a good idea at the time. Selena had  
been arrested within a minute of having set foot inside, on charges  
of violating her parole, assault, etcetera etcetera. Things hadn't  
improved when MacAlpin woke up from her laser-induced nap and  
informed the officers that Selena and Mulder and another woman had  
broken into her home and shot her. She could offer no reason why  
they would bring her there.

They did. Selena, now sans mask, claimed with Agent Mulder  
that MacAlpin had attempted to murder Fox Xanatos the night before  
in front of hundreds of witnesses, including Captain Chavez.  
Chavez agreed that she'd been there, but the evidence they had  
collected, namely the champagne, had already been determined to be  
nothing more than ordinary alcohol. Then David and Fox Xanatos had  
been contacted, and through their assistant Mr. Burnett, had  
declined to press charges. In a last effort, they had attempted to  
contact Elisa Maza, who had also been attacked at the party. She  
hadn't been home.

Selena sighed. MacAlpin had been equally magnanimous,  
considering the circumstances. She'd also declined to press  
charges on her two assailants. Both she and Mulder had been let go  
an hour before. Selena wasn't so fortunate. She'd tried hard to  
gain some kind of trust with the police, had shown up for every  
meeting with her parole officer promptly, had been properly  
contrite for her crimes, had done enough community service to be  
nominated for beatification. It hadn't mattered. She had broken  
one of the basic rules for her parole for no good reason that they  
could see. If she was lucky, she'd be sent to Arkham. She had the  
feeling she wasn't going to be lucky ever again.

There was a figure standing quietly outside the cell, watching  
her. She turned her face away from him.

"I've paid the bail. It's time to go home."

She nodded, unable to speak. The door opened, and the bailiff  
led her out. She still couldn't meet Bruce's eyes, so she looked  
back to Cool "Disco" Dan again.

He said nothing to her until they were safely past the reporters and in  
the Rolls. Alfred pulled them away from the curb, as Selena turned  
towards the darkened glass.

"Why?" His voice was soft, almost childlike in its question,  
and that hurt her more than if he'd slapped her across the face.

"Have you seen the Bengal tiger in the Gotham zoo? He's the  
most beautiful creature I've ever seen. He was born in captivity,  
and he's spent his entire life in a cage. One day, one of his  
keepers slipped and fell, leaving the door open. The tiger walked  
out of his cage, but everything outside was so new and different  
that he went back inside and stayed there till the other keepers  
arrived and locked the door." She felt the tears slid warmly down  
her cold face as she looked into his eyes. "I didn't want to  
become like that. I can't live in a cage," she touched his face,  
"no matter how lovely it might be."

"Is that what I am to you?"

She lowered her head. "In a way. And in another way, you're  
caught in it, too. Last night, when you left, there was a look on  
your face I haven't seen in ages. You didn't want to go, but part  
of you needed to go out again, to become the bat haunting the  
shadows in the alleyways. I need the same thing, and I'm legally  
forbidden to do it!" She pounded her fist against the door,  
wanting the pain, hoping that it would stop her from feeling pain  
everywhere else.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, and she felt herself  
falling into his embrace as she began to sob with all her heart for  
everything they could never be.

VVVVV

Scully waited a few minutes after she heard him come in to  
knock at his door. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, feet  
dangling down, staring at his shoes. His clothes were rumpled, and  
he looked like hell.

"Hi," she said. "What did you find out?"

He laughed with a short bark, very un-Mulderlike. "I found out that  
our mystery lady is alive, well, and living a few blocks away from  
Bruce Wayne. Her name is Angelica MacAlpin, and she was kind  
enough not to press charges."

Scully let out a deep breath. "Press charges on what?"

"The usual: breaking, entering, assault."

"Mulder ... "

"I thought I would find everything out if I just had her. I thought she'd  
lead me to the killer, maybe even to the Illuminati."

"But?"

"But I was wrong. What do you want me to say?" He looked lost. He'd  
been so close to finding the truth, maybe even reaching the people who'd  
murdered his father.

She sat down beside him. "If it makes you feel any better, I think I've  
found out something."

"If it has to do with gargoyles or the Illuminati, don't tell me, because I  
really don't want to know."

"It might. I had a chance to talk with Diana Bennett. She's hiding something big."

"I'd say about 6'6"."

"Him, too. But there's more. She went to see Xanatos today. She didn't get  
in, but we spent some time comparing notes. You know how much I hate  
conspiracy theories, but if you want someone involved with the Illuminati,  
she's the one. I'd almost bet on it."

"You?" He looked skeptical, and he had a right. She had to admit, it  
sounded bizarre even to her own ears, but it had the ring of truth that had  
been lacking in so much of this case.

She nodded. "I think we should tail her tonight to see where  
she goes. Some of those questions might finally be answered."

His face moved into a smile.

VVVVV

Broadway adjusted the spotlight into position while Lexington  
found the nearest outlet. Elisa had spent the late part of the  
afternoon painting it, while they had been sleeping. She watched  
them carefully, hoping they didn't smudge the still-drying paint.

She felt more than saw Goliath approach her, and she tried  
very hard to stifle the laugh that threatened. He wore one of  
Derek's old black turtlenecks, suitably modified with a few snips from  
scissors to accommodate his wings, and a pair of oversized black  
sweat pants. Lose the wings and the lavender skin, and he could be  
any guy she knew.

"Are you certain this is how it was done?" asked Hudson,  
looking critically at the bat shape painted on the lamp.

She nodded. "The bat-signal is famous in police lore. Every  
cop knows that if you shine the light, Batman will come."

"And if he really does come?" asked Goliath.

"Hide." He nodded, and she caught a smile touch his mouth.  
He really did have a nice smile, she thought. She wished that he  
would show it more often.

Brooklyn pulled his own dark shirt on, then looked at the ski  
mask. "This is not going to work well."

Lexington grabbed the mask and slid it over Brooklyn's eyes.  
"Close enough." The others donned their masks, and Elisa found  
herself surrounded by strangers. Winged, beaked strangers, but  
strangers nonetheless.

"Okay, concentrate on the upper 40's. That's where their  
hotel is. I'll call them to get them coming in this direction.  
Remember to spend a lot of time on the buildings themselves. And  
good luck."

"To you as well." Goliath jumped to the ledge and spread his  
wings. In a moment, they were all aloft.

Elisa watched them go, wondering if they were about to sign  
their own death warrants, and knowing it was too late to worry  
about it any further. She flipped the switch to the light, and the  
shadow of a bat struck the far clouds.

VVVVV

Scully tapped his shoulder and pointed to the sky. He followed her  
gaze to see an outline of a bat in stark silhouette to the evening clouds.

"It looks like Batman's pager has gone off. Want to investigate?"

"I'm not sure. I still think we should follow Diana. She's on to  
something. You could go investigate the signal, see where it's  
coming from while I watch her."

"You kidding? She goes into Central Park alone at night."

She tapped her weapon inside her coat. "I'm a big kid. I can take  
care of myself."

"All right, but be careful." She smiled confidently and headed in the  
direction of Bennett's apartment. He watched her go, worry turning  
his stomach. He knew she could protect herself, but he couldn't help  
being a little concerned. She was his best friend, and if anything  
happened to her, he'd just go nuts.

He looked skyward again and judged the signal to be coming from the  
direction of the police station. He headed there.

VVVVV

Bruce noticed the signal as they stepped out of the car. It  
shocked him deeply; no one had used that since Jim Gordon's  
retirement. He'd almost forgotten the adrenaline rush when he saw  
the light in the sky, and the feeling deep within of being needed,  
and wanting to be needed.

Selena's eyes followed his, then closed. "They're calling for you."

"I know."

"Then go. Go to them, save the ones who need saving. Go and  
don't look back into the cage." Her eyes were red for having cried  
so much, but he'd never seen her more beautiful.

"I'm not leaving you, Selena." He turned towards the house,  
ready to have a quiet dinner with her, then perhaps sit with her by  
the fireplace and watch the flames for the rest of the night. And  
knew it would never be so.

"Then I'll make you leave. You want to believe that the darkness  
isn't in you anymore, but it is you. I know, because it's me, too. I  
think that's why I fell in love with you. Both of you."

He took her hand, brought it to her cheek, held it there. They stood  
still for a moment sharing the darkness together, until he finally  
pulled away from her and went towards the house, knowing too well  
the path to the Batcave.

"Bruce?" He stopped. "I'll be here waiting when you come home." He  
nodded, but did not look back.

VVVVV

Elisa hung up the phone after ten rings. Bloody hell. If they weren't in,  
where were they? She climbed the stairs to the roof, where Bronx was  
pacing nervously. She held out her hand and he nuzzled at her palm till  
she petted him.

"It'll be okay, boy," she whispered. She glanced over the ledge to the city  
lights below. Everything was so peaceful from up here. She could  
almost believe that they were in the castle of old times, high above their  
subjects. She'd be a high-born lady, mistress of the castle, destined to wear  
long, flowing gowns and do needlework.

She'd be bored to tears in minutes. She breathed in the pollution of her city's  
air.

There was movement above her. Brooklyn was executing an inverse half-  
spin nose dive with a twist. She muttered, "Showoff," but smiled all the same.

"Come on, Bronx," she called. "We need to become scarce." The watchdog  
followed her down the stairs to the storage room, where he'd be spending  
the night, and possibly the next day. He wouldn't enjoy it, but it was better  
than being discovered.

VVVVV

Mulder felt the secure weight of his gun in his hand as he  
crept up the stairs. He wasn't taking any chances this time. He  
came off the top step into the innards of the clock on the top of  
the police station. Something was wrong, his senses told him. It  
wasn't supposed to be this clean up here. There was nothing  
really out of the ordinary that he could see; it looked like an  
extra storage space if anything, with boxes, an old t.v., junked  
furniture, and a bat-signal shining into space.

Someone was behind him. Leaving no room for thought, he spun  
and pointed his weapon. "Freeze!" There was no one there to  
freeze. Warily, he lowered the gun. His mind was just playing  
tricks on him.

"Better be careful with that," came a deep voice. He turned  
again, and saw an apparition in black before him.

"You're Batman." He wasn't asking; he knew.

The man shook his head in the affirmative. "And you're Agent  
Mulder of the F.B.I. Why did you call me here?"

"I didn't call you. The light was on when I got here. No one's  
home." The man's shoulders slumped, just a little. "Did you  
find anything else on Sevarius?"

His mouth turned as if he were in pain. "Some. His lab was  
practically destroyed when he died. So were most of his notes.  
According to my sources, though, only one of his experiments even  
partially worked. He attempted to give a chimpanzee wings by  
grafting. It died the next day."

Mulder fought down nausea as his mind provided him with an  
image of the pitiable creature. Then he thought of something else.

"One picture. It would have taken one picture in a tabloid to  
get people thinking about gargoyles. If that story somehow got  
mixed up with yours ... "

"People would be seeing gargoyles everywhere. In this city,  
it only takes a day for a story like that to spread."

"But that still doesn't explain the murders."

"I know. I can't explain those yet, but I will. If it takes me the rest  
of my life, I'll find out." He turned away, and faced the night and  
the beckoning moon.

"Don't go yet. There's so much I need to ask you. Why did you quit?"

"I told your friend that already. I retired."

"But you're here now. What changed your mind?"

He look perplexed for a minute, then shrugged. "I like being  
needed." A siren wailed from a few blocks away, and he turned  
towards it as if towards the song of its namesake, calling him to  
his duty.

Mulder nodded, granting permission that had not been asked, and  
the man was gone like a breath of warm wind. Mulder stayed on  
the dark rooftop, looking down on the city for several minutes  
before going back down the stairs into the light of the police station.

VVVVV

Central Park again. Well isn't this just smeggy, thought Scully. Diana  
hadn't seen her yet, which was good. She'd followed her at a discrete  
distance since the other woman had left her apartment a few minutes  
before. In the short walk from the apartment to the park, Scully had  
seen the light in the sky go out. She hoped Mulder was okay.

Not surprisingly, their path led directly to the same drainage culvert as  
the night before. Scully ducked behind the tree as Diana went in, then  
quickly made her way to the mouth of the entrance when she was out  
of sight. She heard a subdued scraping noise, like stone over oiled  
steel, and risked a peek inside.

Diana was gone.

She stepped in, gun at the ready, trying to figure out how the  
woman had disappeared. There was simply no other way out of the  
tunnel, but she wasn't in it. This was the second time this had  
happened to her in as many days, and it was getting old fast.

Scully shone her flashlight on what might have been an opening  
once, but it was walled over with ancient concrete. Nothing  
interesting. She moved the light around, and saw a knob in the  
wall that looked out of place. Maybe the way wasn't blocked, but  
merely guarded. The scraping sound had to come from somewhere.

She touched the knob.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said a quiet voice from behind her.  
She turned her head, and saw a man with a gun pointed directly at her.  
A man she'd seen just a few hours before. Owen Burnett.

"Put down your gun, Agent Scully." His tone left no room for  
argument. Carefully, she set it on the cold ground. "Now kick it  
here." She did so. "Thank you."

"What do you have to do with this?"

"More than you have any need to know." He picked up her gun and  
checked it. "You really should be more careful when you follow  
someone to make sure that you are not also being followed."

"I'll keep that in mind." What was he doing here? Why hadn't  
he killed her?

"Why were you following Detective Bennett?"

"I thought she might lead me to the murderer. I know she's  
seeing someone here, and we're running out of suspects."

"It's not what you think," he said softly, surprising her.

"Then what is it? I'm tired of half-answers and disappearing  
people and monsters that aren't there!" Her anger surprised her.  
Maybe she should think about getting more sleep.

"He doesn't mean to kill them. When people he loves are  
threatened, he reacts out of instinct."

Like the changing of a slide, something clicked. "He's one of  
Sevarius' creations, isn't he?"

Burnett looked blank for a moment, then his mouth turned. It took  
her a moment to realize he was smiling. "If that is what you would  
like to believe, please feel free. It would make my job much easier."

"Then what is he?"

"Something wonderful." His eyes were lit with an odd fire. Mad fire.  
She began surreptitiously looking for a way out of the culvert. "I only  
wish we'd located him earlier. We might have trained him better and  
avoided all this."

She had to keep him talking. "You and who else?"

"You don't honestly think I'd tell you, do you?"

"I guess not."

He sighed, and she remembered the weight of the years on Batman's  
face. "Our ways are not your ways." Oh yeah. He was way gone.

"What do you do in all this?"

"More than you can possibly imagine. I have been involved with this  
particular project for many years."

"So Xanatos is behind it." This was one revelation that didn't surprise her.

"Mr. Xanatos was not my first employer, Agent Scully." The way he said  
it bothered her. Was he working for someone else, aside from Xanatos? An  
image of the moon brushed against her mind and for no reason the tunnel  
grew colder. "I grow tired of this. Leave this place and do not return."

"I have to bring a murderer to justice."

"Believe me when I say he would have no justice Above. Let  
him go; we will deal with him in our own time and fashion."

"I can't do that."

He sighed again, deeper this time. "I was afraid you were going to say  
that." Slowly, deliberately, he walked towards her with the gun. She  
prepared herself to move, to strike, to go down causing as much damage  
as possible.

But his eyes ... She could not escape his impossibly blue eyes ...

He reached out his hand and whispered, "Forget."

The world went dark.

VVVVV  
Chapter 10: Beginnings

Vincent closed the book and leaned back. She nestled her head  
in the crook of his arm companionably. She was never so peaceful  
as when she was in his arms down here, listening to the timbre of  
his voice recite words of lovers lost long before either of them  
were born. Jake was asleep on his father's lap, having conked out  
an hour before. His breathing was very soft, almost inaudible, but  
his eyes were alight with REM sleep beneath his lids.

"That was lovely," she whispered.

"I love the story, but for some reason, I always sympathize with Erik  
more than Raoul."

She pulled away to look at his face. The fine leonine shape had scared  
her the night they'd met. She'd held a gun to him over the course of the  
next day or so, terrified he would kill her in his pain-filled stupor. She  
found that difficult to even imagine now. He wasn't a monster, but a  
changeling, some mysterious fairy-child brought into her life to make it  
whole when she hadn't even known it had been broken. Luminous  
beings are we, had spoken the wise puppet, and he more brilliant than  
all others to her. She stroked Jake's sleeping head. Speaking of fairy-  
children ...

The final piece slid into focus, and she gasped with the realization.  
Burnett. Jake was the one he reminded her of, or at least, of what the  
boy could be like in thirty years. They had the same thin mouth, the  
piercing eyes, and the depth of personality surrounding them like a  
deep woolen cloak. His was the loneliness of being different, as the  
boy would always be from those around him. But she knew that  
Jake would not be alone.

"Are you all right?" asked Vincent, concern in his voice.

"I've never been better," she whispered. She settled back down  
against him, feeling his heartbeat against her cheek. "I've just  
been thinking."

"About what?"

"Life. The Universe. Everything. You know."

"And what have you determined?"

"Not much, really. Only that I'd prefer to spend the rest of all three  
here with you."

He tensed against her. "You don't know what you're asking. There  
are dark places inside of me you cannot imagine."

"There are dark places inside everyone. They don't make you evil.  
They make you human. I've seen the shadows you keep inside, and I  
still love you." She pulled his eyes to meet hers. She breathed, "And  
I know what I'm asking. I'm asking you to marry me, in whatever way  
we can."

He paused, then nodded and pulled her close. Jake shifted, but didn't  
wake up from his slumber. She snuggled into his arms, and whispered,  
"I'll make the arrangements. By Winterfest, I can be down here for  
good, and then the four of us can finally be a family."

He made a sound that sounded to her like a purr. Thirty seconds later,  
the purring stopped.

"What do you mean 'four?'"

VVVVV

Elisa climbed the stairs for the last time that night. The guys would  
be returning soon to roost for the day, and she'd be going home to  
sleep. The spotlight had been off for hours; it hadn't been necessary  
after all. There had been reports all night of sightings of Batman  
from across the city. The guys had done good.

Captain Chavez was already making noises about getting back some  
of the glory of the older days, maybe even talking Batman into working  
with her on a few thus-unsolved cases. Matt was positively glowing  
with the thought, while Bullock merely muttered about winged freaks  
taking over the department.

The guys weren't home yet, but she decided it was safe to let Bronx  
out. He bounded out of the storage room and knocked her over with  
slobbering kisses. She laughed, and then carefully pushed him away  
from her face. Okay, so he was a thousand years old, green, and  
turned to stone at dawn. He still had doggy breath.

She heard the whisper of wings, and knew that the others had  
returned home for the day. Five ancient gargoyles wearing the  
remnants of her brother's night-colored clothing swooped down from  
the sky, all outlined in the last shreds of moonlight before the  
break of day. She tried to imagine anything more beautiful to her  
at that moment, but failed.

"You did good," she told them. "There've been reports of  
Batman sightings everywhere. If Fox and Dana ask, that's what  
they'll hear."

"Good," said Hudson, slipping off his shirt. "I'd hate to think we'd  
have to do that again tomorrow night."

"I dunno," said Brooklyn. "It was kind of fun." He ducked as Lex  
threw his own shirt at him.

Goliath was silent as he removed Derek's turtleneck carefully. It was  
ruined, of course, but that didn't stop him from trying to keep it neat.  
His face was troubled, and she asked him what was on his mind.

"I thought that I saw something or someone, not one of us," he  
said. "I'm wondering if it could be the real Batman, and if we  
have perhaps caused him trouble."

"Don't worry about it," she said, and placed a comforting hand on his  
arm. "Batman is just a myth for comic books and cartoons."

"You're probably right," he said.

"Hey!" called Broadway, already in the kitchen, "Anyone want a snack  
before bedtime?"

"Me!" shouted Lex, and Brooklyn followed. Hudson shrugged and  
went in behind them.

Suddenly, the two of them were alone on the rooftop. The sky  
lightened around them as the moon grew paler, and she realized that  
her hand was still on his arm, but that he hadn't objected.

"'The moon, yes, that will be my home,'" he whispered, more to  
himself than to her, "'and there shall I find all the souls I have  
loved.'"

She thought he was going to say something more, but he closed  
his lips again before he could. Instead, they stood in hushed awe  
together looking over the awakening city as the stars winked out  
one by one above them.

VVVVV

Selena sat in her favorite chair in the study, listening to the house  
as it settled. The sun was rising over the horizon, a few brief  
sparkles coming through the large eastern window to melt the  
frost formed at the corner of the pane. She had stayed up all  
night waiting, wondering, fearing. She'd turned the radio on, and  
heard how Batman had helped nab a thief just leaving a jewelry  
store downtown. The announcer had been surprised to hear anything  
about the Caped Crusader, having heard rumors that he'd died.

Not yet, she thought tiredly. He hadn't died quite yet.

There was a chance that she wouldn't have to go to prison again. It  
was slim, but she clung to the hope like a life preserver in the midst  
of a storm at sea. She desperately wanted to believe that they could  
work through this, that they still could find that dream together.  
Maybe this time the dream could include bats and cats, and all the  
parts of them, not just the sides they showed to the public. When  
they'd fallen in love, it had been as two wounded souls forced by  
circumstance to lead double lives. Those lives had entwined, and  
perhaps would become two of one.

The door opened and closed. In the dim light, she saw a hooded  
figure approach her with measured steps. When he reached her  
chair, he knelt before her, and placed his forehead on her knees in  
the position of a supplicant.

He had returned from his night to her, but it had changed him  
forever. He would return to his city like a mistress he could not  
abandon, even for her. Perhaps there would come a time when she  
could join him in the fight, when she could wear another mask and  
be unafraid, instead causing fear in the hearts of those who would  
harm their citizens, their children. Instead of becoming the sun  
to each other, they could become the moon and stars beneath those  
same guardians of the night, and that perhaps would be a large  
enough cage to hold them both.

She took his chin in her palm and raised his eyes to hers. Slowly, his  
gloved arms came around her waist as she pulled his face up to meet  
her lips. She murmured softly, "My dark knight," and then there were  
no more words.

VVVVV

Scully opened her eyes slowly, disoriented. She was in a strange bed.  
She came fully awake. Oh yes. The Paramount. In New York. Her  
room. Now why didn't she feel as though she should be there?

She glanced at the clock on the nightstand, and nearly bolted out of  
bed. It was noon. Their plane left at two. She got up, ran to the  
bathroom, and started getting ready, wondering why Mulder hadn't  
woken her up earlier.

Something nagged at the back of her mind about last night, but she  
couldn't recall just what. She'd been following Diana Bennett into  
the drainage culvert, and she'd disappeared. She hadn't found  
anything interesting, and had come back to her room and called it  
a night. At least, she was fairly certain that was what had  
happened.

But hadn't a woman's disappearance qualified as something  
interesting? And why hadn't she followed up her lead on the huge  
boyfriend? Yet, it had seemed to make so much sense to her last  
night to come back here and catch up on her sleep, that the case  
was just another one that would never be completely explained and  
that questioning it wouldn't do any good.

By the time she finished her shower, she'd forgotten her uncertainty  
completely.

Minutes later, dressed and ready, she knocked at Mulder's door. He  
met her there. "Good afternoon, sleeping beauty."

"Stuff it, Mulder," she said as pleasantly as possible.

"I met your friend Batman last night."

"What did he have to say?"

"That he liked being needed."

She nodded. That also felt right. "I followed Bennett to the culvert."

"Did you see her boyfriend?"

"No, but I don't think that he's the one we're looking for." She tried  
to figure out why she would think that, but came up with nothing more  
than a very strange image, that of Xanatos' butler holding a plate of  
oatmeal raisin cookies. She shook her head to clear out the image.

"Scully?"

"I'm okay. I had the weirdest dream last night."

"Was I in it?"

"Actually, I think you were." He grinned.

"What was it about?"

She tried to recall. She knew that she had dreamed about the party  
again, only this time there had been more people there. Some of  
them hadn't looked human at all; there had been giant winged  
creatures and at least one person looking more like a lion than a  
man, but she hadn't been frightened. She'd merely watched as they  
joined everyone else in the Great Hall, mingling and talking and  
laughing, and occasionally dancing. Mulder had been there, too,  
and they'd shared a dance to a high, lilting song that put her in  
mind of a Ren Faire. It had seemed the most natural thing in the  
world.

"Magic," she said, and went back to her own room to pack.

VVVVV

Fox closed the book and yawned. She had learned more than she had  
wanted to know about clans and kinsmen and ancient wars. She'd  
even found the Macbeth of legend, from whom their odd associate no  
doubt took his name. But there was almost no mention anywhere of  
what had become of the last lady of Castle Wyvern.

There were other books to be read, other things to be researched and  
cross-checked. She'd made a list as she'd gone, but she knew that  
most of her sources would turn up dry. But she would find out  
what little there was available. She had to know, and the knowledge  
would rouse her from sleep over the next several months, telling her  
to find another ancient manuscript, another book of legends. It would  
be so much easier to just ask the gargoyles, but that was out of the  
question, for now.

She patted her abdomen, and said in a low voice, "Don't worry, kid. We'll  
find her."

She noticed Owen watching her silently from a corner of the room. Then  
he did something she had never imagined him capable of doing. He  
sneezed. Then he went to the bookshelf, pulled out a book seemingly  
at random, and placed it before her.

"You may find this one of use," he said in that odd way of his. She met  
his eyes, and again remembered her dreams. She had walked along the  
halls of the castle, and had looked into eyes such as these, and she hadn't  
been afraid of anything, neither the barbarians at the gate nor the  
gargoyles guarding their home. When she had those eyes beside her,  
she was stronger than the night itself.

"Thank you, Owen," she said in a half-whisper as he moved away  
from her desk.

"You're welcome, my lady," he replied from the doorway, and  
disappeared into the darkness beyond.

VVVVV

His eyes were closed. Tentatively, he opened them, unsure of what to  
expect. Beside him was a shoulder. He glanced up to see that the  
shoulder was attached to a neck, which itself was holding the head of  
a fairly ordinary-looking man. This was a good start.

There was a noise around him, and he realized he was in a moving  
vehicle of some kind. He turned his head experimentally the other  
way, and saw a cloud bank below them rushing by. Okay, so they  
were in an airplane. He wasn't sure where they were going or why,  
but they were in an airplane and he didn't seem to be restrained by  
anything other than the seatbelt.

He looked down and moaned inwardly. Not again!

He unbuckled his safety belt, tapped on the man's shoulder, and said  
quietly, "Excuse me."

The man smiled and moved his legs out of the way.

He nodded thanks and squeezed by. The restroom was in the back  
of the cabin, and thankfully, there was no line. He slipped inside,  
locked the door, and rested his head against it for a moment, trying  
to gather his thoughts into some kind of order.

Then he looked into the mirror.

He had shoulder-length hair, midway between honey and strawberry-  
blonde in coloring. His face was round, his eyes wide and blue, and  
his bra size considerably larger than a few minutes before. Just as  
he'd figured.

"Oh boy," said Sam.

VVVVV

And life went on.

VVVVV  
The End

"Sleep my child and peace attend thee  
All through the night.  
Guardian angels God shall send thee  
All through the night.  
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping  
Hill and dale in darkness steeping  
I my lonely watch am keeping  
All through the night."

- Welsh Traditional


End file.
